Coming Back To You
by The Midnight Fox
Summary: Lyric is plagued by strange dreams of Alice and a man she knows only as 'The Stoic One'. As the War Between The States heats up, the dreams become stronger and Alice reaches across time to plead with Lyric to help her find the one she has lost. What will happen when dreams and reality begin to collide and Lyrics world is turned upside down?
1. Chapter 1-Lyric

Coming Back To You

A Last of the Mohicans Fanfiction

All Last of the Mohican characters belong to their respective owners (I make no money from this so please don't sue me)

Authors note: I didn't intend to write anymore fanfiction but my husband convinced me to when traffic to my older stories picked up. It's hard to find time to write with a 16 month old so please bear with me as I try to write this.

I'm trying something different with 'Coming Back To You'. I already wrote one story where I redid the movie and one set in the same timeframe, I wanted to try something that involved time travel/the unknown. Comments and suggestions are always welcome and as always, please keep them kind. Enjoy!

_ She lay broken and bloody on the rocks, unable to move and drawing just the barest hint of a breath. He lay ahead of her in a pool of his own blood; it spread around the brown face that stared back at her blankly. Alice knew he had wanted to save her, he had fought valiantly but the Painted Man had been too fast, too experienced for him. The Painted Man had killed him in front of her, thrown him from the cliff like garbage. Then he had reached for Alice with her lover's blood still wet on his hands. _

_ Alice stared into his lifeless eyes and felt tears trail down her cheeks as her sisters scream sounded from somewhere above. Cora would not understand her little sister's decision. She would not understand that Alice couldn't abide a world where he was gone and all that was left for her was rape by the Painted Man or a lifetime of painful memories. Alice wished she could touch him one last time._

_ As she took one last shuddering breath she saw Uncas mouth opening as though to speak. No, that was impossible. She knew what she was seeing could not be happening and yet it was, his mouth was moving. He spoke the words:_

_ "Lyr, Reveye!"_

_ Alice narrowed her eyes in confusion. Had he just spoken to her in French? Uncas had never spoken French in her presence and he had certainly never spoke it so oddly._

_ "Li le Reveye!"_

_His voice was distorting, becoming distorted and more feminine sounding. Alice couldn't fathom what was happening. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and she was shaken roughly._

_ "Lyr!" a female's voice said near her face. "Did you not hear the bells? Reveye! Get up!"_

Lyric opened her eyes to the face of her housing mate with an audible gasp. Delphine regarded her with an exasperated expression as she placed her hands on her broad hips.

"_Fe vit_!" Delphine said as she tried to hurry Lyric off the straw mattress. She pointed at the window in an aggravated gesture. "If you do not hurry we will be late with the Madame's breakfast. I will not be whipped because you overslept."

Lyric turned her still confused eyes to the window and took in the bare beginnings of morning sunlight coming through the thick trees. Already the humidity was increasing, promising a very uncomfortable day for those stuck in the fields. It was then that her ears took in the ringing of the church bells far in the distance, marking the time as six am.

"_Pardon, Delphine!_" she apologized in sleepy Creole. "I was dreaming, I didn't hear the bells. I will be there in a moment, you go on ahead!"

_"Sa'a fou!_ It is always dreams with you these days. Just make sure you get to the kitchen before the Head of Household." Delphine warned as she stomped her way out of their little shack and headed for the main house.

Lyric watched her friend leave and then ran her hands back through her tangle of dark curls. The dreams were becoming more frequent. She had had them for as long as she could remember but now they were happening almost nightly. With a sigh, Lyric hopped to her feet, and moved quickly to the basin and washing bowl. She sponged herself off quickly and pulled on the nicer dress and chemise they had given her for working in the Household. As she fiddled with the buttons at her back she reflected on the dream she had just had

She had always had them, and though they were not always the same, they always involved the same people. She could never remember their names upon waking save one, the blonde, fey like girl; Alice. The others she only had nicknames for.

This dream had involved the Painted Man, Alice, and the Stoic one. The Painted Man had killed the Stoic one and Alice had followed him in death. That particular dream had been more prevalent of late. She had it several times this week. This time it had kept her from hearing the church bells and if she could ever get the blasted buttons clasped, maybe she could make it to the house before the Head of Housekeeping.

With a curse she got the last button closed and quickly pulled on her shoes, she barely remembered to grab her head scarf from the back of a rickety chair before racing out onto the dirt path. As she moved briskly over the weed choked ground, other slaves began to emerge from their quarters.

"_Bonjou!_" a few called as they passed and she waved, not stopping to chat as the sun began to peek more and more over the tree tops. A few called out to her by name, addressing her as either Lyric or, more personally, as Lyr. Most of the Plantations Slaves were of Haitian Stock, a few like herself were mixed, nut in the end they all served in the household of Captain Jonathan Harris.

Lyric increased her steps as the house came into view and skidded into the kitchen through the servant's door just a few moments before the Head of Housekeeping stepped through the main doorway. She was just finishing stuffing her dark curls into a scarf as the imposing woman opened the door and stared sourly at the lot of gathered slaves.

It was the same every day. The slaves that worked in the main house where given their posts and all went off without a word or question. Delphine was relegated to the kitchen with Collete and Maria and when it was Lyrics turn, she stepped forward and reminded herself to keep her eyes locked on the floor. The Head of Housekeeping did not like Lyric and would use any perceived disobedience against her. Lyric didn't much like her either so she kept her eyes, and their gleam of defiance, on the hem of her skirt.

"You will open and air out the master's quarters." the Head of Housekeeping commanded. "Put fresh linen on the bed, open the windows. He will be returning this day."

At those words, Lyrics head came up despite her better judgment. He was returning? She didn't expect to see him again for many months, not with the war heating up between the northern and southern states. Why would he return so soon? Had he been injured?

"Has something happened? Is he injured?" she asked worriedly and immediately regretted it when she saw the smug sneer come upon the Head of Housekeeping's face.

"Never you mind! It is none of _your_ affair." the woman snapped at her, emphasizing the word 'your' with a snide smile.

Lyric lowered her head again and bit the inside of her cheek to keep any witty retorts in check. Her temper had often been her greatest enemy and the Head of Housekeeping knew most of the ways to draw it out. It was no secret that the two women loathed one another.

Most of the Head of Housekeeping's ire was not necessarily directed at Lyric herself. It was meant for Lyric's deceased mother. Before Lyric's mother had been bought and brought to Captain Harris' main home in Louisiana, the Head of Housekeeping had been his mistress. Lyric couldn't imagine the Master ever laying such a thin, sour and serious woman but she had been his lover for quite a while. At least until she was past child bearing years.

That had all changed when Lyrics half Haitian, half Spanish mother had appeared. The Head of Housekeeping had been pushed aside and forgotten and Lyrics mother had been made Head Seamstress. She had caught the eye of the Master as she toiled over a ball gown for one of his older daughters. Lyric would never know the circumstances surrounding the Master and her mother's relationship; she only knew that it had resulted in her birth.

She always wondered if her mother thought that baring him a child would keep her in more comfortable surroundings. Maybe it would have if she had given birth to a son, which was what he truly wanted. She had given birth to Lyric instead and all her father had given her was her name.

When he was at home, she sometimes caught him looking at her, but his eyes always slid away if she showed any signs of noticing. He had never spoken a word to her, harsh or otherwise in the sixteen years she had lived and worked in his home. Did he see the young woman he had bedded trying to beget a son or just another illegitimate daughter? Lyric would never know.

After her mother had died all the Head of Housekeeping's anger had been shoved her way, resulting in some very unpleasant days. For some reason she had never pushed Lyric out of the household and into the grueling work of the fields. Usually one complaint from any of the main household could achieve this but Lyric still found herself assigned to the main house. Today's work was meant to hurt her and put her in her place.

"Sharing his blood means nothing." the housekeeper hissed, leaning down so the remaining slaves wouldn't hear her. "And neither do you."

When Lyric didn't rise to the challenge the woman was throwing down though it was one the tip of her tongue to reply '_Neither does sharing his bed apparently'_ but she managed to hold her tongue. The Head of Housekeeping gave an angry scoff and pointed toward the servants stairs at the back of the wide kitchen.

"Just get out of my sight!" the Head of Housekeeping spat. Lyric gave the customary curtsy and hurried away.

Once up in the hallway, she let out an exasperated puff of air. She was glad she was now far enough away not to be heard. Lyric pounded one dark fist against the wall as silently as she could and fought the urge to go back and tell the woman what she really thought of her. It wouldn't have done her any good. Instead, she sighed and thumped her back against the wall, raising her eyes to catch her reflection in a mirror across the way.

For the briefest of moments she saw Alice staring back at her with haunted blue eyes. Alice stared back at Lyric steadily until the girl blinked. When she looked again and all that was staring back at her was her dusky brown face and dark eyes. The hair under the scarf was a tumble of brown/black curls instead of spun gold. She and Alice looked nothing alike.

Lyric looked away from the mirror uncomfortably and pushed away from the wall. She made her slow way toward the Master's quarters, her father's quarters. She passed his painting in the wide hallway and out of habit glanced up at it. She started at what she saw. The man in the painting was not her father. He was dressed strangely, in a suit that had been out of style for longer than Lyric had been alive. On his head was a powdered white wig and his normally trim physique was portly and round.

She shook her head at the image, closed her eyes and then reopened them. The painting was back to what it had always been. Her tall proud father was portrayed, surrounded by hounds with his grand house far in the distance behind him. His hair was brown in the painting and he had a full brown beard, there was no sign of any white wig. Lyric pulled her mouth into a tight line and rubbed the back of her neck in unease. She didn't like it when this happened.

Ever since she was a child Lyric would _'see'_ people as a person other than themselves. It was an ability that had scared her mother and resulted in more than one beating when she had revealed what she saw to a member of the household. Lyric had never looked up at her father's painting and seen anyone other than him before, why would she do so now?

Footsteps were coming up the main stairwell so hurried steps on down the hallway, it would not do to get caught lingering. She unlocked the master's door with the key the Head of Housekeeping had all but thrown at her and ducked inside just as the Madame and her youngest daughter, Clarina, stepped into the upper hallway.

"It isn't proper for a young lady to ride like a man, Clarina." The Madame was admonishing quietly. "What if you had been seen?"

"I am sorry, _Mama_." Clarina was apologizing. "I only wanted to go on an early ride. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes, with Union soldiers popping up everywhere. Where's your common sense, daughter?"

They disappeared into Clarina's bed chamber and Lyric heard no more of their conversation. She was certain the Madame was continuing her lecture and Clarina was humoring her by listening respectfully. Lyric had never had any reason to speak with her half-sister about anything other than the mundane, and as such, knew very little about her. She knew that Clarina often volunteered at the hospital in town and was a competent nurse, another quality her domineering mother didn't approve of.

Lyric shook away all thought of her father and the family that would never claim her. Instead she turned her attention on the musty room. This was her lot in life and she would have to accept it. She tucked away all thoughts of Alice and the Stoic One as well; whose warm brown eyes haunted her dreams. There was no Stoic One waiting for her to find him anymore than there was a chance of her father claiming her.

It was with that happy thought that she began her day.


	2. Chapter 2-Caleb

_Uncas knew, as his arm hung limp and bloody at his side and the blood poured from numerous cuts, that he was going to fail. He had made his way up the mountain alone, fueled by a mixture of anger and deep, all-encompassing love, on a one man mission that was proving to be suicidal. The love that he had so desperately wanted to rescue stared back at him with her lost blue eyes. He saw his own death in her face and knew that she must feel it too. Their eyes locked across that distance and spoke volumes though no words were spoken between them._

_ "I'll come back to you." he had promised her at the waterfall, staring into her face with its golden hair wet and plastered around her cheeks._

_ "What if you cannot?" she had whispered as she pulled him in against her, her words muffled where she pressed her face into his neck._

_ "I'll find a way."_

_ Now, at the end, he had to make that promise all over again. He made it this time, without words but with his eyes, hoping the message reached her as Magua circled him with his own knife._

_ 'I'll come back to you' his eyes promised one last time._

_ Then Uncas threw himself forward in a desperate attempt to attack his opponent. Magua blocked the attack easily and managed to fell his good arm as well. Then it was done, he knew it was done. Uncas collapsed to his knees as Magua pulled him back against him, pulled his head back by the hair. Uncas felt the coldness of the blade against his exposed neck. He waited for Magua to draw the blade across, waited for death to claim him and then Magua spoke._

_ "Son, can ye hear me?" a concerned voice asked._

_Uncas blinked and froze, confused. Behind him, Magua was frozen as well, as though time had stopped. Uncas dared to tilt his head back just enough to look at the man that was about to kill him. The proximity of the blade to his flesh caused the metal to bite into his skin a little. He looked up into the face that was fixed in a focused mask and watched the lips begin to move._

_ "Son! Open yer eyes, Laddie?" the very un-Magua like voice was calling. Then Magua's eyes changed from black to hazel and the brows pulled together in concern._

_ "Can ye hear me, boy?" an unfamiliar Irish voice was asking as a hand shook his shoulders roughly._

Caleb blinked until the image of Magua faded completely and was replaced by an old man of about fifty years. He was staring down into Caleb's face worriedly, his bearded lips covered in dust and dirt and god only knew what else. Caleb coughed on the smoke from left over gun powder and groaned as the old man helped him into a sitting position.

"All right there, laddie." the man said in his thick Irish accent, turning Caleb's head to look at the wound at his temple.

"You appear none the worse for wear." the man said as his fingers probed the wound gently. Caleb gave a pained grimace.

"Well, you'll have a knot to be certain but I think yew'll live." he said matter of factly. Caleb coughed again and squinted at the man in the sunlight filtering through the haze.

"Who are you? Are you part of our unit?" Caleb asked as he glanced around the smoke filled battlefield. It was a sea of torn dirt and dead bodies. Already there were birds pecking at some of the soldier that lay sprawled around him.

"Me names Solomon and I was part of the reinforcements, not that we were much help." the old man responded as he pulled Caleb to his feet. Clabe stumbled and fell against Solomon heavily, the old man gave a grunt of pain and caught him with the arm that wasn't held tight to his chest.

"Reinforcements…" Caleb muttered, trying to remember what had happened. His head ached and part of his brain was stuck back in the dream with Magua and the 'Golden girl'. He remembered gunfire, Gray being shot. He had dragged his friend to the trees and run back out to retrieve Gray's fathers pocket watch, which had fallen from his pocket. He remembered a glancing blow to the head, falling and striking his temple against a stone and then the dream.

"Gray!" he gave a pained cry and grabbed his headd, Solomon steadied him.

"Easy, boy." the old man cautioned.

"I need to find my friend." Caleb exclaimed. "GRAY!" he shouted.

"CALEB!" an answering cry sounded from near the tree line. Solomon gave a grunt as he pulled Caleb along in the direction of the voice.

"I found him first," Solomon grunted "he was screamin' loud enough to wake up this field, wouldn't let me help him until I found you."

Solomon led Caleb to the line of thick trees that eventually led into swamp and bayou territory. Gray was laying just a small ways into the trees, far enough to be safe from gunfire but not so far as to be lost in the brush. His wide green eyes were pain filled but relieved when Caleb collapsed to his knees next to him.

"Caleb, thank god!" he gasped out. "I told you to leave the damn thing back there."

"What, and listen to you whine about it for the next twelve miles." Caleb quipped with a grin. He reached into his own pocket and pulled the watch out by its chain. He pushed it into his friend's hand in mock annoyance. "No, thank you!"

Solomon huffed down next to them and held his arm to his chest, wizened face a mask of contained pain. Caleb glanced at the old man out of the corner of his eye.

"How does an Irish man end up fighting in Lincoln's war?" Caleb asked, noting the man's advanced age and wondering about _that_ too.

"Same way a red man does, I'd imagine." Solomon responded. "I enlisted."

Caleb raised his eyebrows at the explanation and wondered what the true story was behind a man of Solomon's age joining the war effort. Caleb's presence in the army wasn't as strange as Solomon's. Plenty of Cherokee and Choctaw joined up. He had enlisted because Gray had and they had been inseparable since they were children.

Caleb's parents had been part of the Choctaw nation but had died when he was very young. He had been shipped off to an orphanage where his name had been immediately changed from Chula to Caleb. It was in the orphanage that Caleb met and befriended Gray.

They had not always been friends, truth be told. They started out as enemies. Gray's parents had been killed in a random dog soldier attack and he had been shipped from orphanage to orphanage until he ended up at one in Ohio. Gray had hated all Indians back then and had singled out Caleb the first day. After more than a few scuffles and beatings from the house mother, they began to bond and had been together ever since. Gray had run away from many promising homes just to stay with Caleb.

When they were old enough to leave to Orphanage, Gray enlisted. Caleb followed to keep him from running headlong into a barrage of bullets. Gray was hotheaded and had more than a little rage he needed to vent. What better place for that than the war.

"You're a little old to be fighting wars, ain't cha?" Gray asked, sitting up at the waist to get a better look at the old man that had brought Caleb to him. Gray had shaggy, dirty blonde hair and a mouthful of crooked teeth. A couple weeks of not being able to shave made his face scruffy.

"And yer a loud pain in the Arse!" Solomon shot back.

There was a moment of silence following the old man's words and then the two men laughed out loud. Caleb looked between them, baffled and then he too began to laugh. What else was there to do, and Solomon was more right than he knew. Gray was a huge pain in the ass. When the laughter subsided they fell into an awkward silence again.

"What happened to our unit?" Caleb finally asked, saying anything to break the silence. He bent down to study the wound on Gray's leg. He had taken a bullet to the shin and it looked like Solomon had wrapped and attempted to splinter it with some rags and tree branches. Caleb wondered if he had dug the bullet out too.

"They were gone when I woke up," Solomon answered, mopping at his forehead with a dirty handkerchief, sweating profusely in the Louisiana heat. "They probably thought we were dead and moved on. Hell, you know as much as I do."

Caleb gave a heavy sigh. With Gray's leg being as it was and Solomon's broken arm, they had little chance of catching up to their unit easily. Still, staying out on the battlefield, where the enemy could return at any moment was also not an option. What they needed to do was find a town, and if they were lucky, a doctor. Their unit had a doctor so maybe trying to catch up wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Wait here." Caleb told the two men as he went carefully back out on the battlefield. He moved cautiously, lest any stray enemy soldiers decided to take shots at him. When nothing untoward happened he walked across the field to the dirt path and followed it for a short distance, looking for signs of where their unit had marched.

There were tracks leading north and wheel treads from the cannons. They could probably follow the path until night fall, and then they would have to take shelter. He knew their unit had been headed for a town several miles away. It seemed like the only logical choice was to follow the cannon tread.

Caleb picked his way back through the battlefield and picked up a stray derringer and bullets from a fallen soldier. He also picked up two lost Remington's for himself and Solomon. Once he was back with the other two men he told them what he thought they should do.

"Yer friend, there, is in no condition to walk, Son." Solomon pointed out.

"Well, we can't stay here either. We're union soldier deep in confederate territory. I don't know about you, but I'll be damned if I let them put us in some god forsaken war camp." Caleb told the man angrily. He ran his hands back through his shoulder length black hair in irritation. It had gotten long since they began their march through the southern territories.

"What do suggest then?" Solomon asked. He had made a makeshift sling for his injured arm while Caleb had been off studying the path.

"Gray, do you think you can walk if we support you?" he asked his friend.

"Do I have a choice?" Gray answered dryly but still managed a crooked grin. Caleb returned it as he and Solomon walked over to try and find the best way to get Gray upright.

It took a while but they managed to get him upright between them. Once he was as settled as he was going to get, they began to walk forward. There was no room for conversation while they were doing this. Solomon and Caleb had to lift Gray bodily over the dead and then step over them themselves. By the time they made it to the dirt path, they were all sweating.

"Caleb, you lost Goldie." Gray told him, tapping the empty knife sheath at his waist. Solomon raised an eyebrow at them.

"Goldie?

"Goldie's his father's knife, it's the only thing he had of his parents." Gray explained as they began their slow, plodding walk down the trail. "Most of our unit named their guns but he named the knife."

"It doesn't matter." Caleb mumbled. It would matter to him later but right now he didn't have time to worry about it. The Knife's actual name was 'Golden girl' but Gray liked to annoy him by saying the name wrong. He had named it for the 'Golden girl' in his dream whose name he could never remember.

He had dreamt of her for as long as he could remember and had searched for her in the face of every female he had ever met. He didn't think there would ever be a woman alive that could compete with his 'Golden girl.' That promise the other man, the other _him_, had made seemed to have become the driving focus of his life.

_"I'll come back to you"_

But come back to whom? It was the questioned that had plagued him his whole life and what he pondered as he and his companions made their way deeper into enemy territory.

Authors note: I'll state again that I don't own The Last of the Mohians characters and make no profit from this story. I own only what I make up. Please don't sue me.


	3. Chapter 3-The General or the Painted Man

(See end of chapter for Creole translation)

Captain Harris had sent word that he would be returning to the Plantation house that evening. What he had not sent word of was the General _and_ twenty or so Confederate soldiers that would be accompanying him. Neither the Head of Housekeeping nor the Madame were thrilled when he came marching up the road to the house with a regiment in tow. One portion of the household staff was sent off to air out rooms for the higher ranking officers and the field slaves were sent to see what space they could make in the barn for the rest.

The captain and the general rode on horseback under the cover of Spanish moss covered trees, the soldiers walked behind them on foot, their feet making a rhythmic pounding on the gravel path. They came to a stop in front of the house, where the Madame, Clarina, and the Head of Housekeeping waited to greet them.

The Madame, ever the polite southern lady, plastered a smile onto her face that failed to reach her eyes. She didn't like surprises of any kind and this was certainly a surprise. Clarina stood with her hands folded before her in the fanciest dress her mother could force her into, and attempted to look demure. The Head of Housekeeping simply looked stern. Lyric watched all this from her vantage point in the lower hallway, as she and the other main household slave's awaited instruction.

"Husband," the Madame greeted pleasantly as she walked forward to take her husbands offered hand. The entire interaction was for show, when he was home they barely spoke or looked at one another. Even the Captain's face, as it looked down into his wife's, looked uninterested.

The Madame was what would commonly be called a 'handsome' woman. Even the painting in the upstairs hall, that depicted her at the age of twenty, showed a rather broad shouldered and staunchly built female. The Captain had chosen her because she came from hearty breeding stock and she had given him five children. Unfortunately for the Madame, they had all been daughters and the final birth, which was Clarina's, had rendered her infertile. Giving birth so many times had made her rotund and the handsome angles of her face were taking on a moon-like roundness.

"I do wish you had sent word that you were bringing so many…." she paused as she peeked around his horse at the assembly of gathered men. One spit with an audible hawking sound and Lyric had to school her expression to keep from laughing. "…guests" she finished, plastering her smile back in place.

"Last minute changes, M'dear." Lyrics father responded in his deep baritone. "I trust we can accommodate the general and his officers for the evening?"

"General Braxton Thibodaux, Ma'am." the general greeted in his smooth southern drawl. Lyric glanced up curiously to see the General reaching down to take the Madame's hand and started.

The person she saw on the horse was not the person that was supposed to be there. She saw the painted Man leaning down to kiss the Madame's hand, his dark eyes conniving and black in his sharply angled face. He wore little more than a loin cloth and a belt of dangerous weapons at his waist. On his legs were dark leather leggings and his lower jaw and upper chest were painted black as night.

"_Lyr, ki sa ki nan mal?" _Delphine hissed at her when she saw Lyric's expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost? What is it?"

Lyric couldn't answer her, she couldn't speak. The painted Man couldn't be here and yet he was right there in the path. She shut her eyes and rubbed them before daring to look again. The Painted Man had vanished. In his place was a rather tall, broad shouldered man, about her father's age. He had a head full of copper colored hair and a matching trimmed beard. General Thibodaux smiled at the Madame pleasantly as they had a conversation that Lyric couldn't hear.

"I thought I saw…" she shook her head and waved a hand as if to brush the issue away. "It's nothing. _Mwen amann, Delphine."_

Delphine gave her a skeptical, worried look but didn't ask any more questions. Instead she adjusted her position to the same waiting, patient stature she had worn before and looked at her feet. Outside, the Madame was discussing sleeping arrangements for the soldiers.

"My men will only impose upon you this night, Good Lady," General Thibodaux was promising, genially. "In the morning, most of the men will head into town to prepare for an assault from the northern aggressors. "

One hand flew to the Madame's throat and fear came into her eyes. Lyric had heard her speaking to some friends one day in the sitting room about crimes perpetrated on the middle class by northern soldiers. There were many rumors flying around Louisiana about the Union soldiers and what they got up to when the drink was upon them. Lyric was fairly certain the rumors were perpetrated by the confederacy in order to hide their own crimes.

Slaves talked as well, and rumors had come in from the slaves purchased at the sales block of rapes, murders and other unsavory actions on the part of southern soldiers. The looks of some of the men standing out on the path didn't bode well with her.

"No need to fear, Ma'am," General Thibodeaux was reassuring "my men will keep you and your lovely daughter safe. Speaking of, I don't think I've had the honor of meeting the young lady on the porch?"

A little gasp of air indicated that Clarina had hoped he wouldn't notice her at all. Sadly for her, there was no chance of that. Even if he hadn't seen her, her mother would have pushed her into his line of vision before the evening was over.

"Well, don't be rude," her mother cajoled, gesturing to her. "Come say hello to the General."

Lyric watched the back of Clarina's brown head, with its perfectly curled hair, as she made her way down the steps of the porch and walked slowly toward her mother. Clarina had a small stature and petite features. Her mother had dressed her in a skirt that was so big, it made her look like a mouse in a circus tent. Clarina was uncomfortable in party dresses in a way her four older sisters hadn't been and woefully uninterested in balls or coming out parties. As the only unmarried daughter still at home, she had become her mother's project and they butted heads daily.

Lyric watched as Clarina held up her hand to General Thibodaux and tried not to recoil as his lips touched the back of it. Lyric also witnessed the Madame's evident delight at the attention the General was showing her daughter. She could practically see the wheels turning in the older woman's head as she planned their wedding. If the Madame had her way, Clarina would be married within a month.

"Charmed." Clarina muttered, though she didn't look _charmed_ in the least. General Thibodaux didn't appear to notice, he was charmed enough for both of them.

Clarina pulled her hand back as quickly as she could and still be polite, looking away. There was a brief glint of disapproval that flitted through the Madame's eyes but she hid it well.

"Well Mr. Thibodaux, supper should be ready if you and your officers are hungry?" The Madame declared. General Thibodaux smiled as he climbed down from his horse and snapped his fingers at Aron, a stable boy of about eight. The child came forward with his head down and took the horses reins quietly. Captain Harris followed suit and Marcus; an older stable hand came forward for his mount. General Thibodaux offered his arm to Clarina like the gentleman he was.

"Shall we?" he asked with his pleasant smile.

Clarina's shoulders sagged minutely, and then she rallied in the way she had been taught and took his arm. He led her toward the house, speaking to her quietly about something. Lyric watched her wrinkle her nose just a bit at the smell that must be coming off of him and smiled at whatever he was saying. Then they came through the front doorway as the other soldiers were dispersed to random parts of the property and slaves were dispatched to bring them water and food.

Lyric kept her head down as the Madame and her father passed. Captain Harris took no notice of his illegitimate daughter and the Madame pointedly ignored her, as she did all the slaves. Behind them came General Thibodeaux and Clarina. Lyric felt the heat of the Painted Man's gaze on her head and forced herself not to look up lest she see him staring back at her.

Why had she seen the Painted Man so clearly in the handsome General? What did that mean? His presence in her father's house had her on edge in a way that made her skin crawl and that sensation had never spelled anything good. Lyric found herself hoping he would leave in the morning with his men and take the ghost of the Painted Man with him.

Soon enough, the well-dressed elite were past the group of household servants and the doors to the dining room were being pulled closed. Once the General was out of sight, Lyric let out a puff of air.

"_Bondye mwen._" She exclaimed quietly in Creole. "What has he brought into this house?"

"You've gone pale, Lyric. What have you seen?" Delphine asked as the group made their way to the servant's door, which take them to the kitchen. Delphine knew that her friend sometimes saw odd things while looking at people and her _voodoo_ upbringing made her superstitious.

"_Yon rèv,_ at best," Lyric answered "but potentially a nightmare."

"_Pèp Bondye pwoteje nou!"_ Delphine whispered and did a gesture of protection in the doorway. Lyric mimicked the gesture though she had no such beliefs herself. Her mother had bought into some _hoodoo_ traditions, but most of that knowledge had died with her. Still, Lyric did keep a jar of brick dust in their shack, just in case. Fighting down her nervousness, she followed the other girls into the kitchen and tried not to think about General Thibodaux _or_ the Painted Man.

The dinner was to be served in several courses, starting with an appetizer of oysters inbrochette. From there they were to serve soup, a Crawfish Bisque, followed by a Crawfish Étouffée. The meal would have finished with a Doberge cake if one particular incident hadn't made that impossible.

Lyric, Collete, and Maria where serving the main dish of Étouffée as quietly and quickly as they could manage while the men laughed drunkenly and the women fidgeted uncomfortably in their seats. Delphine and a new slave girl, Celestine, were refilling the wine glasses. Lyric was granted the unhappy task of serving General Thibodaux his supper when the 'incident' as it would come to be called, occurred.

At first, it seemed as though she could accomplish the job of serving hime without drawing unwanted attention, so involved was he in listening to an off color joke one of his officers was making about 'Colored girls.' Lyric was just about to place the plate of food before him when the officer finished his joke and the General laughed loudly. He gave a guffaw as his hand came up behind Lyric and gripped her rump roughly with his big hand.

"Ain't nothing quite like a colored girl, is there?" He chortled drunkenly. Lyric bite her tongue and forced herself not to hit him over the head with the plate. Suddenly, the General swung his eyes her way and looked directly at her. He looked her up and down appraisingly in a way that was anything but gentlemanly.

"Bet you're something to see in the sheets." He said lowly and went to pull her in against him. "What do ya say girl? Wanna warm my bed tonight?"

Lyric's fear and temper got the better of her. She scoffed as she pushed away from him and purposely dumped the plate of steaming Étouffée into his lap. As he jumped up from his chair she shot back away from him crying out "_Jwenn men ou sou mwen!"_

General Thibodaux jumped up as well, howling in pain as the hot liquid burned its way through his trousers. He swung his drink infused; angry eyes her way as the rest of the room jumped up as well, the room ringing with cries of "Are you all right" and "Get the General a towel." Clarina was the only one to stay seated, a napkin pressed against a mouth that was smiling and trying not to show it. She seemed pleased that someone had done what she had wanted to do since meeting him.

"You little bitch!" the General roared at her. "You filthy little mongrel bitch!"

"Lyric, go back to the kitchen and stay there!" her father commanded, unkindly. "I'll deal with you in a moment. General, I am so sorry!" Captain Harris was apologizing profusely as Delphine grabbed Lyric's arm and tried to pull her toward the kitchen door.

The angry glare that swung her way was once again becoming that of the Painted Man. Though the copper hair and beard remained, a dark mask was descending down his jaw and disappearing into the uniform. Delphine managed to pull Lyric through the door and it swung closed over the General's quickly changing features. Once they were alone, she nearly threw the angry and trembling Lyric into the preparation table.

"What were you thinking!?" her friend bellowed at her.

"_Pa rele fò nan m ', Delphine!_" Lyric cried back. "You didn't hear what he said, what he wanted."

"It doesn't matter, Lyric." she responded and gestured with her hand at the closed door. "They own us! _Bon bondye_! When will you start to understand that?"

"I will not be used and discarded like a common whore!" Lyric shouted back. Delphine's anger stilled for a moment and then her shoulders lowered as she sighed, heavily.

"No, you'll just be severely whipped instead."

Delphine was right, of course, there was no way that the Captain would let her little performance slide without some form of punishment. She might even find herself sent out to hard labor in the fields after that little display, assuming she was able to move again when the whipping was done. Delphine opened her mouth to say something else when the kitchen door from the dining room flew open and in walked the Head of Housekeeping followed by the Captain.

Lyrics eyes met her fathers and, for the briefest of moments, he was the man she had seen in his portrait earlier that day. The other man strode toward her with purpose, his face an angry mask under the ridiculous powdered wig. He was yelling at her as he came forward, the unfamiliar lips moving as he said:

"Did you nae get my letter? Why did you disobey me, girl?"

She had only a brief moment to ponder the strange words when his hand came up and slapped her face sharply. Lyric's hand came up to tentatively touch her stinging cheek, startled.

"The man that you just insulted is my superior officer," her father hissed in a voice that was now his own. Lyric turned her startled eyes up to find her father was her father again and the _other_ man was nowhere to be seen. Near the door, the Head of Housekeeping watched their confrontation with a smirk.

"He could make or break my career." Captain Harris continued as he reached out to grab her upper arms. He gave her a rough shake.

"How dare you embarrass me like that!"

"_Papa, tanpri_," she pled quietly. "You don't know what he asked of me."

"Nor do I care." he snapped back at her. "And you are _never_ to address me as _anything _other than 'Master', do you hear me?"

All she could do was nod; for fear that she would start crying. She didn't want him to see how much he had hurt her, how much pain his lack of acknowledgment was causing her. He released her as roughly as he had grabbed her and turned to the Head of Housekeeping.

"Take her to the Field Overseers and have her whipped." He told the sour faced woman who nodded and barely managed to hide her thrilled smile.

Lyric felt her heart sink into her stomach. The Field Overseers were known for their heavy-handed approach when it came to whippings. She had never been at their mercy before and hoped to never have occasion to cross them. She stared at the back of her father's head with pleading, pain filled eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at her as he prepared to open the door into the dining room.

"I kept you in service to this house as a favor to your mother, whom I cared about a great deal." He told her, angrily. The Head of Housekeeping's smile flattened a bit at the mention of Lyric's mother. "I did so against the wishes of my wife and I'm seeing now what a mistake that was."

Lyric was taken aback. He had cared about her mother? Her mother had died broken hearted and cursing his name, thinking he had only wanted her in the attempt to sire a male heir. Now he was saying he had cared for her?

"You will be moved to field work starting immediately and sold as soon as I can find a buyer." he finished roughly. "The sooner I am rid of you the better."

With that he went through the door and left her at the mercy of the Head of Housekeeping. Lyric couldn't move, all she could do was stare at where he had been standing feeling as though he had stomped all over her on the way out. She was to be beaten, relegated to the fields and sold. It was the worst possible punishment.

The head of housekeeping pushed away from her place against the wall and stomped over to Lyric, grabbing her by the upper arm in an iron like grip.

"What did I tell you, my girl?" she nearly purred as she began hauling Lyric toward the door leading outside.

"Sharing his blood counts for less than a can of beans."

Haitian Creole phrases translation:

_ki sa ki nan mal-_What's wrong?

_Mwen amann-_I'm fine

_Bondye mwen-_My God!

_Yon rèv-_A dream

_Pèp Bondye pwoteje nou_-Saints protect us!

_Jwenn men ou sou mwen-_Get your hands off me!

_Pa rele fò nan m ', Delphine-_Don't shout at me, Delphine

_Bon bondye_-Good god!

_Papa, tanpri_-Father, please?


	4. Chapter 4-Whispers in the Dark

Caleb paced around their tiny campsite anxiously while Solomon poked at their pitiful excuse for a fire and Gray stared at his friend with a set jaw. The companions had walked until it had begun to get dark and they were forced to move into the swampy, moss covered forest for the night. The swamp provided the only available source of water, filthy though it was, so the swamp was where they would have to go.

Food had been the other issue. Caleb had managed to shoot a creature that looked like a cross between a rat and a beaver, Gray had cheerfully nicknamed it a 'swamp rat'. The damn thing hadn't tasted very good. In fact, it seemed to get bigger the more Caleb chewed. It was protein, however, and they would all need the strength if they ever planned to make the next town.

Solomon had shown him how to make a fishing line from one of his boot laces and a bent pin. After digging up a couple of night crawlers they managed to catch a few small catfish. The larger predators began to peek out of the water as the light faded and the men were forced away from the water or risk losing a limb.

Once full dark fell, Caleb began to feel a familiar uneasiness. It had happened periodically throughout his life but when he was a child he had equated it with the rough existence of life at the orphanage. He equated it to fear of beatings from the house mother or other childish concerns. As he had grown into adolescence the feelings had become clearer, more urgent. This was when he began to see images of the 'Golden Girl's' face, terrified or pain filled and had almost broken a leg trying to escape the Orphanage and get to her.

As an adult the feeling had been accompanied with an emotion from the other _him_, as though the dream persona were trying to come through and was aware of something that Caleb was not. It was at times like these that the other _him_ became insistent that Caleb act but couldn't provide him with any instructions as to what he was _supposed_ to do.

When the nagging feeling of urgency began building in his chest, Caleb tried to ignore it. He tried distracting himself by making a filter out of some cloth and collecting what would become their drinking water. By the time, he had the filtered swamp water set in a little pan to boil; he was wired so tight he was ready to run into the swamp heading for god knew where.

"Yer gonna wear a path into the dirt if you keep pacing like that." Solomon commented as he turned over one of the catfish he had skewered with a sharpened stick.

Caleb didn't answer him because the emotions of the _other man_ where like a drum roll in his head, though he did stop his constant pacing. Instead, he stared off into the trees worriedly.

"It's Goldie again, ain't it?" Gray asked, knowing very well what was affecting his friend.

"What, the knife?" Solomon inquired, testing the steaming flesh of the fish with two fingers before placing it back in the fire. "That's what's got him looking like he could take off at any moment?"

"It's not about the knife," Gray explained, shaking his head. "It's about the girl he named it after. A girl that he doesn't even know exists, I might add."

That last part was called at Caleb's back and, had he not been feeling so tense, he might have argued the point. As it was, he couldn't get the part of him that was the _other man_ to simmer down. Somewhere, his 'Golden girl' was in pain and, somehow, he could sense it. The other _him_ was angry, anxious, wanting to find her. It made Caleb balance precariously on the edge of running blindly into the woods and searching for her, even if he had no idea where she was or how to find her. These feelings he got were the only evidence he had that she _was_ real. Gray was of the opinion that he only wanted her to be.

"Distract me, please?" Caleb requested suddenly, turning and forcing himself to go back and sit down by the small fire. The _other man_ was angry with him, loud enough to almost make words in his mind.

'_Go._' he seemed to plead. '_Find her, help her'_

The other _him_ didn't seem to understand that Caleb couldn't help her without some idea where he was going.

"Tell us how you really ended up in the army, Solomon?" he asked the old man who lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the request.

"Oh, you don't want to hear my story, lad," the old man said as he took a bite of his fish. "It's not that interesting."

"It's probably more interesting than watching this one fidgit." Gray laughed and poked at Caleb with his good leg. Caleb shot him a harassed glare.

"Not much to tell, really," Solomon began slowly. "I lost both me boys in the early years of the war, one right after the other. Me wife couldn't take it, the loss of them..."

He told of how he had left their Connecticut home one sunny afternoon for the market, leaving his wife, who was sleeping, by herself. She had slept so much since losing their two sons that Solomon thought she would remain sleeping while he was gone. He had been wrong.

Sometime after he had left she had risen, found his pistol, and put the barrel against her temple. He had returned to find her dead in their son's old bedroom. Finding himself all alone and with very little to live for, he had enlisted in the army.

"Being raised Catholic meant taking me own life was not an option." Solomon grunted as he adjusted his weight on the log he was using as a seat. "But the good book don't say nothin' about dying in battle. Seemed like a good option at the time but, as you can see, I'm still here."

"So you joined the war hoping to die?" Gray asked quietly. It wasn't often that he was rendered speechless by any story but Solomon's had been so sad that he didn't have it in him to be cynical.

"That was the idea, yeah." the old man mumbled. Then he shook himself and tried to smile across at the two men that had become his new traveling companion.

"What about you two, eh?" He asked, trying for a lighter tone. "What's your story?"

And that how they spent the next hour, sharing stories of their lives up to that point. It served its purpose in terms of distracting Caleb from the _other man's_ anxiety. When it came time to turn in for the night, the nagging feeling of urgency had faded but in its place was a sense of despair. Caleb didn't know whose despair it was exactly, the _other man's_ or his own.

They wrapped themselves in blankets from their packs and Caleb took one more look at Gray's leg before turning in himself. The appendage didn't look good, the flesh now red and inflamed. Grays's skin had a pale, sweaty pallor and Caleb suspected that not all of that was from pain. He laid the back of his hand against his friend's forehead and found it hot to the touch. If the leg wound formed gangrene, he was in real danger of losing it.

"You ought'ta leave me." Gray told him after he had used some boiled water to clean up the bullet hole and rewrap the area with a piece of torn shirt. "You'd have a better chance of catching up to our unit without me and my bum leg to contend with."

"Not happening." Caleb replied firmly, frowning down at the aforementioned limb.

"Caleb-" Gray started to argue but the Indian pierced him with unyielding eyes.

"Gray." He said back in a tone that indicated he wouldn't hear any more about leaving him behind. After a short battle of wills Gray sighed.

"It's bad ain't it?" he asked quietly. Caleb sat back on his heels and nodded.

"Think I'll lose it?" Gray asked with a slight glint of fear in his eyes. They had heard the screams issuing from the medical tent and the end result of poorly amputated limbs. Gray had always been uncomfortable during those periods.

"I don't know." Caleb answered truthfully.

Once Gray was as comfortable as he could be with no pain killer and hard ground to sleep on, Caleb pulled out one of the army issued blankets from his pack. He pulled it over his legs and stared up at the stars peeking through the Spanish moss covering the tree tops. Inside, the other _him_ was in despair. Something had befallen his 'Golden girl' and he had been unable to do anything about it. He knew she was alive, however. He didn't know how he knew, he just did and so did the _other man_.

Caleb knew that finding her had been the true reason he had joined the war effort, even if he told himself that it was to keep Gray safe. Gray was part of the reason but not the whole reason. Caleb had had no real idea what he wanted to do with his life. The orphanage had provided a basic education but with no money he could hardly continue it. When Gray had decided to enlist, the _other man's_ voice had spoken to him with words for the first time.

"_Go_,' it had said. "_Join. Fight. Find her_."

The push had been so strong that he had done what the other _him_ requested and now here he was. All of this, all the pain and gun fire, seemed to be leading him to her. What would he do when he found her though? What would he say?

"Be safe, Golden Girl." Caleb muttered into the dark as Solomon's snores rose up around them. "Please be safe." And somewhere, not so far away, Lyric whispered 'Stoic one' into the dark.

Authors note:

(This part was originally going to get back into Lyrics's POV but for some reason this site likes to smoosh all my sections together. I haven't really figured out how to counter that, so I apologize for the lack of indentation in my paragraphs. When I upload these chapters it all looks clean and nice but the site seems to say 'fuck that' and changes it upon posting. I swear I know how to use indentation! XD That being said, the next chapter will get back into Lyrics part of the story.)


	5. Chapter 5-Gunshots in the Night

Lyric was not fit for work in the fields the next morning; she was not fit for movement of any kind. The Field Overseers came to the shack to retrieve her when she didn't show up that morning, tried to rouse her from unconsciousness in the roughest way possible, and ultimately gave up. They left her sprawled on the shack floor until Delphine returned in the afternoon and managed to strong arm her back onto the pallet. Lyric was barely aware of any of this; her world had narrowed down to brief moments of wakefulness that were filled with such burning pain that she retreated into oblivion again.

The night before, the Head of Housekeeping had taken her to the barn where the Field Overseers were having a drink with a few Confederate soldiers. She had thrown Lyric before them in an ungraceful heap and told them, in a very pleased voice, what the Master had ordered. Lyric had been strung up by the wrists, her hands bound with rope that was thrown over a rafter. She was pulled up until her toes brushed the ground and stripped bare for all to see. Then the Overseer had plucked one of the larger horse whips from a hook on the wall and cracked it for good measure. Lyric was grateful he had left the more frightening Bullwhip in its place, as that might have broken her bones.

Then the whipping began; one strike after another, burning into her back, buttocks, and the back of her calves. She heard a soldier laugh as she screamed and tried to bite back any further cries but it was impossible to keep them in. She became aware of another voice crying out with hers and wondered if it was Delphine. Her friend had a great fear of the whip and would be very distressed to see it being used on Lyric. As the other cry rang alongside her own she blinked, blearily into the small gathered crowd of slaves and soldiers.

No slave was crying out, none would have dared draw the attention. Those that could stomach watching looked wounded for her, others turned away. Delphine was crouched near the barn door with her hands clamped over her ears and eyes tightly shut. Then where was the cry coming from?

There was another crack of the whip, another burning sting across her back, another cry of pain. It seemed to go on and on until Lyric realized the other voice was not coming from the crowd, it was coming from her own mind. Alice was feeling the pain of the beating along with her. This realization made Lyric fall silent and listen, almost made the sting of the whip vanish as she focused on the girl whose voice rang out in her ears only.

Alice was not only crying out in pain but was crying out for a specific person, a man. Lyric could almost hear his name, strained to hear it as the whip gave one more burning slash across her behind and then stopped altogether.

"Let that be a lesson to you, half breed." the Overseer warned her darkly as he tossed away a cigar stub. She heard, rather than saw, him walk back to where the whips were secured.

"You cannot be finished with her?" Lyric heard the Head of Housekeeping ask incredulously. Lyric had been so busy trying to hear who Alice was calling for that she had forgotten her discomfort for a few short moments.

Her arms ached horribly where they stretched above her head, not to mention the stinging, burning pain of the new welts decorating her backside. She lifted her head from where it had fallen with effort, trying to see the Head of Housekeeping as she stomped over to the Overseer with her face a twisted into mask of rage.

"One hundred lashes is the normal punishment for insubordination. You said he wanted her in the fields tomorrow, if I whip her anymore, she'll be lucky to stand upright, let alone work" The Overseer explained with an indifferent shrug.

"Insubordination?" The Head of Housekeeping nearly shrieked. "Insubordination?! What about addressing her Master inappropriately? What about forgetting her station?"

"Look, Melinda." The Overseer said as he gave her a patient but harassed face. "I doled out what I would for any of the slaves under my watch and I got things I wanna do. You think she deserves more? Do it yourself."

The Head of Housekeeping, Melinda, suddenly got the strangest gleam in her eyes. It was as though he had just given her the greatest gift anyone could have ever offered her. A slow, sadistic smile spread over her lips and her thin hand reached out for a riding crop. She took it and approached Lyric with it as though in a trance.

Lyric passed out soon after the Head of Housekeeping, she would never get used to thinking of her as 'Melinda', began to beat her. She beat the girl so hard and with such venom that she had to be pulled away by the Overseer. Lyric was only vaguely aware of anything by that point.

She remembered the slack of the rope, binding her arms. She remembered falling into a painful, bloody pile in the dirt, and she remembered one of the slaves wrapping her in a cloak. After that she knew very little. She heard the slave's murmuring to each other as she was carried out of the barn, talking about what had just happened. She remembered being laid on her stomach on the straw pallet she shared with Delphine, and someone, perhaps Delphine herself, sponging the blood from her back. It was then that Lyric had faded into the dream world.

_It was a dark and cloudless night, Alice and Cora where in a boat that was being guided through the water by three men underneath it. She could see their hands holding the rim of the boat as they pulled it silently through the water. Ahead, and through the trees that led up a steep hill, she could see the flashing of light like a summer storm. She became aware of the far away booming of cannons and the crack of gun fire. They were heading for a fort, she remembered that now. Fort William Henry, her father's fort._

_ "It will be all right." Cora whispered reassuringly next to her. "Everything will be all right, Alice."_

_ "Yes," Duncan agreed next to her. "You will be safe in the Fort"_

_ Alice looked at the trees lit up with gun fire and doubted very much that the fort was any safer than the water. She laid her pale hand over a dark one and felt a reassuring squeeze from the fingers. _

_ As the boat was pulled into shallower water, the three men that had been guiding it began to emerge from the water. First was a sturdily built, older Indian with long black hair that was becoming streaked with Grey. Next, was a white man with equally long chestnut colored hair, who was dressed much the same as the elderly man. Lastly was him, Uncas, the youngest of the lot. _

_ His black hair was plastered to his head and his soaked red shirt clung to the contours of his body as he and the others dragged the boat into the sand and then helped the women out of it. _

_ Cora took the hand of the 'White man dressed as a Red man'. They shared a brief look of mutual respect as he guided her to shore. It was brief and gone in an instant but Alice had seen it…and so had Duncan. His expression indicated he did not appreciate the exchange at all._

_ Uncas took Alice's hand and guided her through waters that soaked the hem of her skirt and invaded her high boots. The father, she knew in some way that he had raised these two men, followed behind them and watched the pair with knowing eyes. Once her feet exited the water, Uncas turned to her and stared down into her face, ardently._

_ "You must wake up." he told her in his smooth deep voice. Alice tilted her head to the side, questioningly._

_ "Wake up?" she repeated. "I don't understand."_

_Uncas face became more intense, more worried. He took her by the lower arms and gave them a gentle shake._

_ "You must wake up." He repeated firmly. "They are almost here."_

_ "Who? Who is almost here?" She demanded, gripping his arms as tightly as he had hers. She gave a visible start when she saw her fingers. They were no longer the pale white they had been but rather the color of coffee filled with cream._

_ "Lyric!" Uncas cried out in a rising tone that was closer to female yet still had that masculine tenor. Her eyes flew from her fingers to his face and started again. His eyes, the eyes that had been a rich chocolate brown were now flecked with the most beautiful flecks of gold. She gasped at their beauty._

_ "Lyric,"he pled in a voice that was not so deep yet had the quality of flowing water. "Tanpri! You must wake up, Yo ap vini!"_

Lyric came out of the dream so quickly that she was unsure as to where she was. She could still hear distant gunfire but she could also hear screaming and the sound was very nearby. She pushed herself painfully up from the pallet and glanced around her, searching for the "Strong Sister', 'the Father', and 'the White man who was also a Red man'. She had left their names behind in the space between waking and dreaming.

Suddenly, Delphine was tugging on her arm, trying to pull her from the pallet. Her brown eyes were wide and scared in her face, her dark hair pulled into a long braid down her back. The screaming that Lyric had taken in as she was waking was now louder; in fact it was next door.

"The soldiers," Delphine hissed at her. "The General has let them lose in the Slave quarters to do as they please. Get up, Lyric! Now!"

Lyric was having a hard time wrapping her mind around Delphine's meaning. She was still lost in the memory of those beautiful eyes. She wished she could have looked on them longer, she had never seen the 'Stoic ones' eyes like that before. Delphine gave a little cry and put her hand over her mouth as Maria began to scream and cry out next door.

"Lyric, what is the matter with you," her friend whispered urgently and once again began to tug on her upper arm. "_Nou dwe kache_, they are coming!"

"Who?" she asked, finally coming out of the fog the dream had left her in. She looked toward the doorway as a soldier stuck his head around the corner and leered at them.

His eyes had the bloodshot quality of someone who had been drinking and when he smiled, his teeth were stained and crooked. He lifted a foot up to step into the shack and Lyric realized with horror that no brick dust had been laid across it that evening.

The red dust would have made him unable to enter if his intentions were to harm, without the dust he could come and go as he pleased and no one was likely to stop him. Lyric always laid the dust down when they turned in for the night but as she had been indisposed, it had not happened this night. Delphine stood up and placed herself in front of Lyric who pulled her cloth undergarment tight against her chest.

"You should leave _mesye." _Delphine said with courage that Lyric was sure she didn't feel. "There is nothing here for you." The man grinned wider and spit in the corner, loudly. When he turned back to them he adjusted the bulge in his trousers with a wink.

"Now I wouldn't say that." he responded as he looked Delphine up and down first and then turned his eyes on Lyric. "I think there's more than enough here for me."

"_Tanpri, mesye._" Delphine pled in Creole. "My friend is hurt, please just go."

"Don't you worry, darlin'," the soldier said as he drunkenly strode forward and made a grab for Delphine. "I know what you need." He grabbed Delphine's arm and pulled her in against him, grinding himself against her." "You can feel it right."

"Let her go!" Lyric shouted from the pallet, struggling to her knees. The soldier ignored her as he pushed Delphine back against the wall with an arm pressed against her neck. She struggled, trying to fight him off as he pushed one of his legs between hers and began to fiddle with his pants.

Lyric looked around for anything she could use as a weapon and her eyes fell on the heavy jug near the basin of water Delphine had used to clean her wounds. Lyric struggled to her painful legs and ignored the pull of her skin under the welts as she hefted the basin in two hands. She hobbled over behind the soldier and held the basin above her head.

She brought it down on the back of his skull so hard that it broke but the jug had done its job. The soldier collapsed against Delphine and then slide to the floor with a groan. The other girl hopped away from him with her hand pressed against her mouth and frightened tears falling down her dark face.

Lyric didn't waste any time. She grabbed the small pistol from his belt and handed it to delphine by the barrel. She would have a better chance of using in than Lyric, who knew nothing of fire arms, and then stole an odd looking dagger from his belt as well. It caught her eye because it was out of place with the other standard issue weapons. The hilt was wrapped with a soft leather and there were frayed feathers tied to it. Where had he gotten such an obvious Indian knife?

She didn't have time to ponder it. She painfully pulled on the parts of her everyday dress that she could bear to have against her skin and peeked around the door warily. All around the outside, soldier were dragging women out of shacks. Some were being thrown into the dirt and taken by force. Others were dragged behind buildings or into the surrounding trees. Men who had tried to stop the assualts lay dead from gunshot wounds in the path.

More gunshots rang from the direction of the main house and Lyric felt her heart go cold in her chest. Who would be firing in the house? Had the war spilled over onto the plantation? No, that didn't seem right. If the war had reached Captain Harri's home the soldiers would be too busy fighting to rape the slave women.

She stepped out into the path and looked toward the house. In an upstairs window she saw a flash and heard the bang as a firearm was discharged.

"_Papa_!" she gasped loudly.

Captain Harris might have had her beaten, he might have brought her so low and damaged her pride irreparably with his indifference, but he was still her father. He was the only family she had left and she didn't want to lose him this way.

Lyric nearly fell trying to run up the path. She heard Delphine call out her name as she tried to follow. Lyric didn't look back to see if she was keeping up, she needed to get to that house, and her father, immediately.

She ignored the pain in her limbs as she wrenched open the door to the kitchen, ignored the burning of skin pulled tight around the injury as she made her feet lift to step inside and then tumbled ungracefully over something that became tangled in her skirt in the doorway.

Lyric landed hard on her chest and gave a raspy cough as she tried to get back to her feet. She pulled her skirt over something pliant and long, twisting until she was free of it and gasped as she took in what it was. The empty eyed stare of the Head of Housekeeping stared back at her.

She heard Delphine scream as she too made it to the back doorway, her voice incoherent behind the hands that seemed unable to leave her mouth. Melinda, lay on her back with a bullet wound to the forehead. A small stream of blood ran out of her lips and her skirt was hiked up, giving evidence of what must have happened.

Lyric closed her eyes on the scene and offered up a small prayer for the woman who had never been kind to her. She may not have liked the Head of Housekeeping, she may have cursed her name a dozen times in private, but the woman had not deserved an end like that. When the prayer was done she closed Melinda's eyes and hopped to her feet, racing for the servants stairs.

"What are you doing?" Delphine cried behind her. "We shouldn't be here!"

A gunshot from the slave quarters had her rushing over Melinda's body and shutting the door. Lyric collapsed against the doorway leading to the servant's stair and tried to hold on to her remaining strength. Adrenaline had gotten her this far but she wasn't sure how much longer that would last. Every inch of her cried out in pain and the only thought that was propelling her forward was getting to her father.

"Lyric," Delphine whispered as she came up next to the sagging girl. "We need to leave, to hide. It's not safe to be here."

"I have to help him." Lyric told her through gritted teeth. She pushed away from the wall and stumbled to the narrow stairwell, leading up. Delphine gave an incredulous scoff as Lyric grabbed the bannister and began to pull herself slowly, and painfully, upward.

"Why?" Delphine demanded from the bottom of the stair. "He's never done anything for you but cause you grief."

"He's my father!" Lyric snapped, eyes flashing defiantly in the dim light.

From above she could hear cries, they sounded like they were Clarina's. With renewed purpose, she began to climb the steps, fueled only be determination and will power. Delphine gave an exasperated sound and followed, taking Lyric's elbow and guiding her along. With the other girls help they reached the landing and pushed through the door into the hall.

The hallway of family paintings was smoky with recent gunfire; Clarina's angry cries were more evident and seemed to be coming from her father's study. Lyric pushed away from Delphine and stumbled down the hall, using the wall for support. Delphine's soft foot falls echoed behind her.

The hallway seemed impossibly long, stretching away and Lyric was forced to stop, breathing hard. Her body was failing on her, making it difficult to see or move or even breathe in the hazy corridor. Maybe it was that weakness that led to what happened next.

She would always remember it happening in slow motion. The door opening a few yard ahead, the tall coppered haired man stepping into the hallway, and Delphine's cry for her to 'Look out.' Lyric remembered how slowly he had lifted the pistol, how the bullet erupted from the tip with a bang and flew across the hall to catch Delphine in the chest.

Lyric would remember a scream sounding in the tight hallway and would later realize it had been her own, as her friend collapsed on the rug, gasping and twitching before lying still forever. Lyric didn't have time to go to her, didn't have time to run. She didn't have time to do anything as the copper haired man took a few short steps toward her and shoved her against the wall with his forearm.

She gave a gasp of pain as her raw backside rubbed against the fabric of her dress and the wall. She gave another gasp of shock as the man leaned forward to peer into her face.

"Well, hello there, mongrel." General Thibodaux drawled dangerously. "I think you and I have some business to discuss."

Haitian translation:

nou dwe ale-We must go

nou dwe kache-We must hide

mesye-Sir

Tanpri-Please


	6. Chapter 6-Into the Bayou

Lyric stared into eyes that should have been blue, or green, or even amber to go with the copper curls, but they were black. They were the painted man's eyes and they glared into her's with a burning hatred that would have scorched her on the spot if it could.

"Let me go!" she demanded, trying to duck under the arm that pinned her. General Thibodaux leaned in until he was pressed up against her; she felt the entire hard length of him as he forced her injured backside firmly into the wall. When he had her well and truly pinned, he smiled into her face.

"I think you owe me restitution for yesterday." he murmured with his face so close to hers that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. His free hand wandered up to twirl one of the curls next to her cheek.

"_Ou bata!"_ she spat angrily. "You killed Delphine!"

"Ohhhhh, I've killed more than the likes of her," General Thibodaux purred, rubbing his cheek against hers like a cat. Lyric turned her face away in disgust but he grabbed her chin roughly, forcing it back around.

"Coloreds, northern soldiers, even the captain and his wife." he revealed nonchalantly, Lyrics eyes went wide in disbelief.

"Why?" she asked, her voice quite in its disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

Her question amused him and he chuckled loudly. His face was completely serene with his actions, as though taking her father's life was no different than buying fish at the market. Had he come here with that intent in mind, take advantage of the Master's hospitality, murder him and his wife, and let his men rape the Slave women?

"He was one of your own." Lyric whispered, shaking her head. "Are there even northern soldier marching this way at all or was that just a ruse to get here?"

"Someone has been listening out of turn." He commented, idly running his hand from her cheek to her chest. Lyric felt her stomach turn over and began to struggle anew. He merely laughed at her feeble attempts to escape him.

"The northern soldiers are coming, that's true enough, and once they arrive Captain Harris' murder and that of his wife will be blamed on them. There will of course, be no slaves left to tell them differently."

"Why would you do this, it makes no sense?" Lyric asked incredulously.

"He's one man with a little parcel of land in the middle of the swamp." General Thibodaux chuckled merrily. "No one will miss his prattle, of that I can assure you."

"You've done this before." Lyric said, thinking out loud. "The murder of the lower elite, that was you, wasn't it?"

"My men have needs, Darlin'." he told her in an amused, if not indifferent, voice. "As do I."

Lyric noted that Clarina had not been included in his words about killing her father and the Madame. She was also not being included in speech about killing the slaves. Lyric had heard her crying out as she climbed the stairs but where was she now?

"And Clarina?" she demanded. "What happens to her in all this?" General Thibodaux gave a growl and roughly spun Lyric around. He pushed her up against the wall, leaning his weight into her injured skin. She gave an audible cry of pain as his fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arm and then one of fear as she felt him fiddling with her skirts, trying to hike them up.

"Miss Clarina is not your concern, Mulatto." he snapped and she felt him fighting drunkenly with the buttons of his trousers. She tried to slid a hand down, slowly and painfully, to the pocket of her dress where she had stashed the Indian knife. If she could get to it, maybe she could hurt him enough to get him off of her.

Both of them froze in their actions when there was an audible click sounded behind them.

"Miss Clarina can speak for herself." The Captains daughter said darkly. "Now release her before I decide to pull this trigger."

Lyric felt the General step back from her and quickly pushed away from the wall and away from him. She turned about to see Clarina with a small hand gun pointed at the back of the Generals head, or that's what she should have seen. What she actually saw was Clarina with an image of the 'Strong Sister' superimposed over her.

Lyric saw the 'Strong Sister's' intense gaze and angry eyes as she held a musket instead of a pistol, at the back of the General's head. Then Lyric blinked and it was only Clarina standing there. The Captains daughter wore a white night dress and had a purple bruise spreading over her cheek, as though she had been struck. Her blue eyes held the same intensity as the 'Strong Sister', the same anger, but also a look of violation, and Lyric didn't have to guess what the General had done to her.

"You won't fire that pistol." General Thibodaux said arrogantly, holding his hands up. His eyes watched Lyric as she went to stand by her half-sister. Clarina's eyes narrowed with tightly controlled anger.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." she replied darkly.

Once Lyric was clear of him she had a brief moment to glance into the room the General had come out of. It was the Captain's study and on the ornate rug she could see the bodies of the Madame and the Captain lying in a pool of blood; both had gunshot wounds to the head. Lyric fought back tears and turned to glare at the General with Clarina.

"This can only end one way, you know," General Thibodaux continued in his calm and arrogant voice. "There are more of us than there are of you"

"One more word and I will put a bullet in your skull." Clarina threatened.

"Lyric, did he hurt you." she asked the other girl stiffly, as if the words themselves hurt. At first, Lyric could only look at her in shock; Clarina had never addressed her in any way before. Lyric didn't even think Clarina knew her name.

"He tried." she answered tightly. "He killed Delphine."

She glanced over at her friend lying sprawled in the hallway and swallowed a lump that was rising in her throat. Delphine had been her friend since childhood; she had helped Lyric through the death of her mother. She didn't know what she would do without her.

"Well it stops here." Clarina stated angrily. "I will see you brought before the harshest judge in Louisiana for this. I will watch you dangle from that rope and relish watching the life leave your body."

The general laughed and turned around to face her, he even clapped his hands. Clarina paled but held her gun arm steady as he took a step forward. He stood before her with the barrel right up against his chest.

"You forgot to load the chamber." he sneered.

Clarina had just enough time to look frightened before General Thibodaux punched her in the side of the head. She gave a cry of pain as she fell and he grabbed the pistol from her fingers quickly. Lyric flung herself against his arm and bit the flesh as hard as she could. The General howled as he tried to fight her of and his boots got tangled in the floor runner.

They fell to the floor with Lyric on top of him and grappled for the pistol. Lyric pushed her knee painfully into his groin, making him howl and managed to pry his fingers from the base. She swung the butt of the gun against his temple like a bat and he grabbed his head, screaming in pain. Lyric hopped up to run but he grabbed her ankle, tripping her.

"Oh, no you don't!" he hissed and tried to pin her to the ground with his weight. She rolled under him and tried to ignore the dark spots that danced in front of her eyes as her injured flesh rubbed against her dress and the rug. The pistol had gone flying and all she had left was the Indian knife. She darted her hand into her pocket, grabbed the hilt in one hand before he could pin her down and stabbed at the only thing she could reach, his groin.

The cry of agony that came from the general was unlike anything she had ever heard before. He rolled off of her with his hands held over the front of his trousers as blood began to seep through. Lyric took only a moment to watch this before climbing to her feet and running to Clarina who was shaking her brown curls as though trying to clear her head. Lyric grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her to her feet.

"We have to go." she said urgently. Clarina nodded mutely and they stumbled their way toward the main staircase.

"I will kill you, you Mulatto Bitch!" General Thibodaux screeched behind them. "I will hunt you down and kill you!"

Lyric ignored him as she and Clarina raced down the steps and through the main hallway to the front door, she opened it just enough to peek out and see who might try to stop them. It appeared that most of the soldier were back in the slave quarters having their 'fun'.

"Listen." Clarina said suddenly, laying a hand on Lyric's arm. "Do you hear it?"

At first she didn't, all she could hear was General Thibodaux screaming upstairs and a few fading cries from the Slave Quarters. Then a new sound reached her ears, a deep rumbling boom from the direction of the town.

"The Northern soldiers." Lyric gasped.

Outside, the Confederate soldiers must have heard it too because a general cry went up. The two women watched as, one after another, the soldier moved up the path, readying their weapons for the incoming soldiers. Silently, Lyric pulled the doors shut.

"What do we do?" Clarina asked, fearfully. She had already faced rape at the hands of the General and she had heard stories from her mother about what the Northern Soldier were capable of. Even with Lyric _knowing_ that the general and his men had been responsible for the murders of the lower Elite, She couldn't say that the men from the north would be any better. She was certain Clarina didn't want to stick around to find out.

Lyric thought for a moment, tried to decide what their best option would be. Horses would draw far too much attention and they certainly couldn't take a carriage. She cursed inwardly; her thoughts were so jumbled she could hardly think straight.

"The Pirogue." she said suddenly, remembering the canoe that the Slave men sometimes took out to the bayou for fishing. There was one harnessed a ways into the surrounding forest, assuming they could get to it without getting shot.

"Pirogue?" Clarina repeated, lifting an eyebrow. Lyric nodded and took her hand.

"They'll see us if we take the main road but no one will try to chase us once we're in the swamps, follow me!" She pulled the smaller girl toward the kitchen and they stepped over the Head of Housekeeping's body and onto the outside steps.

Lyric put up a hand to indicate they needed to be quiet as she looked around. Thankfully, most of the troops appeared to be up on the main road. With a little luck, they could make it to the pirogue without being seen.

Silently the two women descended the steps and then broke into a run for the trees. Lyric heard a cry go up somewhere behind them and knew that someone had seen them, probably catching sight of Clarina's white night dress in the dark. They ran for the Pirogue as though being chased by the devil himself.

Lyric untied the rope that kept the canoe in place and pushed it out into the water before climbing in herself and grabbing a paddle. She pushed them out into the dark water of the swamp as a gun shot rang out behind them. Both women ducked their heads until the house was only a vaguely lit beacon behind them. Then Clarina grabbed the other paddle and began to help as they retreated into the bayou together.

_He dreamt of the first time he had really looked at Alice Munro. They had been climbing the rocks next to a wide stream and he had stopped to study the lines of her face. He remembered that her blonde hair had been pulled back from her face in a braid that wrapped around her head and that the officer, Duncan, was helping her up the steep rocks._

_ Uncas remembered how lovely she was in the light, the blue of her eyes and the soft smile on her lips. He had never seen a woman like her before. He had been impressed with her quiet nature in the face of everything she had endured and wondered at her sister's need to try and coddle her through it. Alice had offered no complaint during the journey, requested nothing, though plenty complaints were offered in her stead. She looked like a tiny song bird to him, one that had been kept in a cage for far too long._

_ Suddenly Alice turned to look at him and the dream froze around the two of them, their companions stopping in the middle of whatever they were doing. Alice looked at him straight on and her eyes were urgent as they pierced his._

_ "She is coming." Alice told him softly. Uncase blinked and shook his head._

_ "What?" he asked, not understanding._

_ "She is coming." Alice repeated more insistently. "You must wake up and meet her."_

_ "I don't understand," he said. "Who's coming?"_

_As he watched, her blonde hair was lengthening and becoming more curled. It drifted down to her waist and tumbled over her shoulders. He watched the gold begin to slowly darken, first to red and then to bronze. It became darker and darker as he watched._

_ "Caleb." this new version of Alice pled. 'Please? You must wake up. She needs you!"_

_ He took a step back, shaking his head as the dream began to fade around him in a wash of color. Alice, the golden girl, held him with eyes that had gone from blue to a rich chocolate brown. Soon, all that was left of the dream was a girl with smooth light brown skin and exotic dark eyes. There was a stranger where Alice had just been._

_ "Wake up, Caleb! Now!"_

Caleb sat up in his bed roll with a gasp, breathing heavily and looking around him wildly. Nearby, Solomon snored on as though everything were as it should be. Somewhere, far in the distance, he could hear the booming of cannons and the familiar cracking noise of gunfire. Caleb wondered if that's what had woken him up. On the other side of the campfire, Gray had pushed up into a sitting position and was staring off into the trees, his brows drawn together.

"Think that's our unit?" he asked quietly.

Caleb couldn't answer him. Alice, the golden girls, words were ringing in his head. For once he remembered her name. In all the years he had dreamt of her, he had never remembered her name.

"_You must meet her."_ The voice echoed in his thoughts "_She is coming."_

The words had him moving as though someone had lit a fire under him. He crawled out of his bed roll and began walking striding toward the dark waters of the swamp.

"Where are you going?" Gray called when he saw his friend heading away from the campfire. "Caleb, there are Gators in those waters!"

"I have to meet her." he called back. He could imagine the look of confusion crossing his friends face. He didn't understand it himself. He just knew that he had to go to the water and wait for whoever was coming.

"Meet her?" Gray repeated. "Meet who? Is this about Goldie? You don't even know if she exists, Caleb!"

Even so he knew he had to wait for her. Caleb stared out onto the still waters of the swamp and scanned them quietly, looking for movement. Alice was coming and she needed him. That was all he knew and all he needed to know, He would wait all night if he had to. Standing there in the dark he prepared to meet the girl he had been searching for his entire life.

Haitian Translation:

_Ou bata-_You Bastard


	7. Chapter 7-A Shining Light

Lyric and Clarina found the flaw in their escape plan soon after they had outrun both the gunshots and the lights from the plantation house. In their haste to get to the Pirogue, they hadn't bothered to grab a lantern or light source of any kind. They soon found themselves floating on dark, alligator filled waters with only the moon to show them where they were going, and _that_ was only when it came out from behind the clouds.

Lyric paddled along slowly and, for the most part, blindly as she tried to figure out where they should go. Her plan had only been 'run' and 'Pirogue' up to this point and now that escape had been achieved, she had no idea where to take them. She glanced at the black silhouettes of trees poking out of the dark waters and caught sight of a large dark shape moving through the swamp. It seemed they had gone from one dangerous situation to another.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Clarina spoke quietly from her place at the head of the boat.

"_Wi, nou ye."_ Lyric answered her quietly. "I only had this planned as far as finding the boat. I'm not very familiar with the bayou, even in the day time."

Clarina didn't say anything to this; instead she pulled the front of her night dress closer around her and gave a little shiver. It wasn't cold in the swamp, if anything it was uncomfortably humid, even for April. In what little light they had, Lyric could see her hunkering in on herself.

"Are you going to be all right?" Lyric asked her softly as she squinted into the dark swamp, looking for any sign of land or people. The bayou dwellers were an odd bunch but not untrustworthy. If she could find a Stilt home, even that would be welcome.

"He didn't get very far." the other girls answered stiffly "When he heard you and your friend step on a loose floorboard he stopped." There was no way to hide the tightness in her voice.

"That's not what I asked." Lyric tried again. "And it doesn't matter how far the violation went, it's still a violation."

"I'll survive." Clarina responded and then sighed as she lowered the paddle into her lap. "Though I fear I may never be comfortable in the company of men again.

Clarina explained then how the household had been woken by the Housekeepers cry from the kitchen and then a gun shot. Her father had run to the kitchen to find Melinda dead and the General with a smoking gun. He had claimed that the north was moving in toward the house and he had just chased off and shot at the solider that was raping the Head of Housekeeping. She heard him tell the Captain he needed to take his family to the safest room in the house.

Then she explained how they had been led to his study, how her father had locked them behind the solid oak door until the General had knocked and identified himself. Of course Captain Harris had let him in. Their father had opened the door and the General had walked in. Without a word he shot the Madame in the head. The Captain had time for only one brief shout before he too was shot. Then General Thibodaux had turned to Clarina.

"He told me it was time for him to have a son." Clarina said bitterly. "Just like that, he kills my parents and tells me he wants a son. That's when he…" she trailed off, unable to even say the words.

"He implied he was responsible for the murders of the lower Elite as well." Lyric told her half-sister as she gripped the paddle that much tighter. "It seems he's been doing this for a while."

"Why my family?" Clarina suddenly burst out and, even in the low light Lyric could see her swipe at her eyes. Lyric shook her head.

"I think it was because your father annoyed him, as simple as that."

"_Our_ father." Clarina corrected her softly.

"_Mwen regrèt?"_ Lyric asked, forgetting to speak English in her surprise. Clarina seemed to understand anyway.

"Our father." She repeated firmly. "I know that you are my sister."

Lyric couldn't speak; she was so startled by this revelation. She didn't think it had been common knowledge amongst those that lived in the house, aside from the Head of Housekeeping and Clarina's parents. She found this acknowledgment both touching and baffling.

"I didn't think you knew." Lyric responded lamely. Clarina gave a bark of ironic laughter.

"Oh, I knew. My mother ranted about it for years. She didn't want you in the house as another reminder of my father's indiscretions. I remember your mother a little. She was kind but fidgety. She used to make my ball gowns."

Lyrics mother had been fidgety, especially toward the end. She became more and more superstitious over the years and Lyrics dreams and abilities had her mother convinced that she was possessed.

As the moon came out from behind the clouds, Clarina was illuminated for a few moments. She had once again become the 'Strong Sister', the brown curls hanging longer and fuller and the short stature now tall and thin. Clarina turned her head to see Lyric staring and, thinking something was on the back of her night dress, tried to see the back of it in alarm.

"What? Is there something on me?" she asked, pulling the fabric around to see it better. Lyric shook her head until the image was gone.

"Nothing, I thought you were someone else for a moment. It was a trick of light, never mind." Lyric tried to explain hastily. Clarina was not convinced by her flimsy excuse at all.

"Well, what did I look like?" she pressed.

"It's nothing, really." Lyric tried to reassure her. Clarina drew her mouth into a tight line and laid aside her paddle. She crossed her arms over her chest and caught Lyrics eyes with a pointed stare.

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what you saw." the smaller girl stated firmly. Lyric rubbed the space between her eyes wearily and sighed, the pain in her backside and fading adrenaline chased her natural stubbornness away.

"Sometimes, I see people as 'other' than themselves." she explained slowly. "It's happened sporadically my entire life."

"And who did you see me as?" Clarina prompted, her face showed no judgment or fear, simply curiosity. Lyric sighed again and explained a little about the dreams, the 'Strong sister' and what she had been seeing the last two days. Clarina listened until she was finished and then lowered her arms, staring at her half-sister in amazement.

"You have the sight." she declared in a whisper. "Just like Marie Laveau."

It was Lyrics turn to give a bark of ironic laughter and Clarina gaped at her, affronted. Lyric covered her mouth as she giggled and waved a hand to try and show she wasn't laughing _at_ Clarina.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she wiped her eyes. "It's not you. Marie Laveau doesn't have any 'sight' to speak of. She's a fraud; I met her when I was a child."

Lyric's mother had been so scared when Lyric told the Madame that she had seen her as a finely dressed woman with no head, that she had taken her immediately into the swamps to be looked over by the famous _voodoo_ queen, Marie Laveau. Lyric remembered her as an impossibly old woman with white filmy eyes and gator bones hanging in her doorway. Lyrics mother had explained what had been happening to her daughter and the ancient woman immediately declared her 'crossed.'

Then, Marie Laveau had performed a ridiculous ritual where she had danced around Lyric with a rooster and chanted in a gibbering mix of Creole and English. When it was over, the old woman declared Lyric to be 'curse free' and sent them on their way. Not wanting a repeat of the odd performance, Lyric had lied about its success. When her mother asked her if she still saw people as 'other, she had lied'. She had lied about the dreams as well. She had lied to her mother until the day she died.

"But she's been alive for so very long, how could a fraud pull that off?" Clarina countered as she took up her paddle once again. They would use the brief moment of moonlight to try to find their way through the swamp again.

"By having many daughters all by the same name." Lyric revealed with a smirk. Clarina looked over her shoulder, incredulously.

"But she knew things about the Elite she couldn't possibly know?" Clarina argued. "Even my mother went to see her once, when she was trying to conceive a son."

"Marie Laveau started out as a hairdresser." Lyric explained. "She learned to listen when people spoke. What she couldn't learn from that, she learned from the slaves. We gossip as much as the white folk, Clarina."

"She's seriously a fraud?" Clarina asked, still looking as though she couldn't quite believe it.

"The one my mother took me too was, I don't know about the one _your_ mother spoke to."

They might have argued the case longer if Lyric hadn't seen to see the faintest gleam of camp fire ahead in the trees. She pointed it out to Clarina and together they pushed their way toward it. She could see someone standing near the water's edge, as if looking for something. Maybe these strangers could give them some idea of where they were or of how to get to a town.

Lyric knew that she should be more cautious, she didn't know who was watching from the shore, but she found she was tired. She was bone weary with all the events that had befallen her in the past few days. If seemed unlikely that any Union soldier would be camping in the bayou and if they were well, the women weren't unarmed. Either way they needed to get to shore.

Clarina helped her pull the Pirogue closer and closer to the campfires light and as they came into view of the person on the shore she saw arms come up in a wave, as though someone were trying to get their attention.

"They see us." Clarina cried and paddled the boat that much faster. Lyric, for her part, went still in her efforts.

'_Go to him._' Alice's voice commanded in her head.

Clarina didn't notice that Lyric had stopped paddling; she was pulling them through the water on her own effort now. Lyric stared at the person on shore, who was becoming clearer now. He was male; he had thick waving hair that reached his shoulders. She could barely make out a uniform in the darkness but could not see its colors.

'_Go to him_,' the voice said again. '_He's waiting for you._'

As though in a dream, lyric climbed over the side of the boat and found that they had pulled up into water shallow enough for her feet to touch the silty bottom. Clarina gave a cry of alarm as Lyric wobbled the Pirogue and followed the cry with a scared 'Lyric, there are gators'. Lyric barely heard her. As soon as her feet were out of the boat she began to walk toward him slowly.

The man, in turn came out to meet her. They met in the middle of the shallow water as Clarina uttered a curse from somewhere behind and hopped out of the boat as well. Lyric heard the gentle splashing as she dragged the boat as far as she could before abandoning it and chasing after her entranced sister.

'_It's him._' Alice spoke urgently. '_Uncas.'_

Lyric came to a stop a few yards away as the man completed the distance. He too stopped and they stood transfixed, taking each other in. Lyric felt her heart stop in her chest as she saw him, Uncas, the 'Stoic one'. The man before her didn't look like him yet he was him. She could see him as he had always been in her dreams, all long dark limbs, straight black hair tumbling down his back and his eyes…wait, no, the eyes were completely different.

His eyes, which should have been chocolate colored were a lighter brown and there were flecks of gold in them where they caught the light. She blinked several times to see him as he truly was. This man had a more square jaw and a long straight nose; his lips were fuller as well.

"_se li ou_." she said quietly. "_sa li ye?"_

"Lyric?" Clarina questioned as she came up next to her. "Who is this, do you know him?"

"Uncas."sShe breathed the name out like it was a prayer, she wasn't even sure it was her speaking. How did she explain that she knew him in a way that defied logic? Even though he was wearing a different face she could still see traces of the man she had dreamt of her whole life. He stared back at her as though he saw it too, as though he knew her intimately though they had never laid eyes on one another until this moment.

"Alice." he said just as quietly. His voice was not as deep as the Uncas of her dreams yet it was just as beautiful. "You're Alice aren't you?"

"Alice?" Clarina repeated with obvious confusion, looking between them. Lyric took a small step toward him and stumbled.

Perhaps it was the stress catching up to her, perhaps it was her injuries that had been stressed harshly in the last couple of hours? Perhaps it was the shock of finding Uncas and having him know her by a name that was not her own? Whatever it was, it crashed over her with all the force of a great wave. The man that both, was and was not, Uncas saw what was happening and reached out for her. His arms came around her as the darkness rose up to claim her.

Translation guide:

_Wi, nou ye-_yes, we are_._

_se li ou_- it's you.

_sa li ye_-Is it you?


	8. Chapter 8-Morning

Caleb stared across their small camp at the dark haired girl who was and was not Alice, as Clarina, the petite aristocrat who had come in with her, sponged at the girls red welted backside with a torn piece of cloth. The darker girl sat sullenly, knees pulled up to her chest as the other girl tried to clean her wounds.

She seemed embarrassed about her faint back in the water, as though it had somehow injured her dignity. It hadn't lasted very long. Only long enough for Caleb to gather her limp form into his arms and carry it to the camp fire. Clarina's cries of alarm had awoken Solomon who, after taking in the image of Caleb with a semiconscious woman in his arm, had quickly brought him a canteen.

Caleb had gently patted her cheeks until she came back around, until the eyelids tipped with long dark lashes had fluttered open and a pair of caramel colored eyes had gazed back at him. He had stilled with his fingers against her cheek, weak in the presence of beauty. This dark girl who had literally fallen into his arms was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"Hi." he had breathed out; it was the only word he could form.

She had stared back at him intently, her dark eyebrows arching gently over her lovely eyes. Her full lips parted for a moment as though she was going to speak and then she seemed to realize where she was. She had quickly disentangled herself from his arms and gathered her loose dress against her chest, inching away from him as though frightened.

Caleb would have tried to speak to her but the other girl, who eventually introduced herself as Clarina, had made her way around him as she fired a barrage of questions at the other girl. Then she had knelt to place a hand on the girls back and it had come away wet with blood. Clarina had called for water and a clean cloth then, all business and the men did as she asked without question. Caleb had looked at his arms and found them smeared with blood where he had held the unconscious girl and wanted to ask what had happened to her but Clarina had shooed him away.

So here he was, sitting across the camp with Gray as the two men watched Clarina sponge at the other girls back. Solomon was silently cooking some small bits of potato over the campfire and taking in the new visitor's. He hadn't asked any questions but Caleb knew their sudden appearance had alarmed him.

"So that's Goldie?" Gray queried, Caleb nodded with his eye locked on the dark girl who grimaced as Clarina mopped at a tender area.

"Caleb there ain't nothing _golden_ about her, she's a Darkie." Gray pointed out dryly. Caleb shot him an angry glare and Gray cleared his throat, swinging his eyes back to Clarina instead.

"What about the other one, what's her story?" he asked, changing the subject. It was probably a smart move. Gray didn't hold to too many prejudice beliefs but he was pretty free with a wide variety of ethnic slurs. He had originally hailed from Tennessee, before ending up in the Ohio Orphanage, and as such had no problem using terms like 'Darkie' or 'Colored', among others. Caleb would have to have a talk with him about using such terms for his 'Golden Girl', even though he couldn't really call her that anymore.

"I don't know." Caleb answered, "She hasn't told me anything other than her name. She carries herself like a rich person though."

"Talks like one too." Gray agreed and then hissed and gripped his leg as an arrow of pain shot up his shin. Caleb turned his eyes from the girl that was Alice and took in his friends grayish pallor and pained face. That leg needed tending to, and soon.

"We should have her look at that leg." Caleb said, narrowing his eyebrows in concern. "She seems to have some medical training."

"Fine by me." his friend commented before throwing his head back with another gasp of pain. When his head came back down he was grinning roguishly. "I certainly wouldn't complain about being nursed by someone who looks like _that._"

Caleb walked away shaking his head, even injured Gray could find a way to chase a skirt. He approached the two women and tried to make noise so he didn't startle them. Clarina glanced up at him curiously as he approached. He made it a point not to touch her, she had recoiled earlier when his hand touched hers as he handed her some fresh rags. Whatever had befallen her had made her nervous in the company of men.

"If you don't mind, miss," he began politely. "My friend is badly injured and you're the closest thing to a doctor we have. Do you mind looking at him? I can take over here easily enough."

Clarina looked around Caleb to Gray who was once again grimacing in pain and then turned her blue eyes to her companion as though asking permission. The dark haired girl gave a brief nod and Clarina climbed to her feet, dusting off her hands on her, now not so white, night dress. Caleb didn't offer to help her up and she probably wouldn't have accepted his help anyway. Silently, she picked her way over to Gray as Caleb knelt by the dark haired girl and took up the wet cloth.

She turned back about and hugged her knees, shoulders tense. Whatever moment they had shared in the water had passed and left them with an awkward stillness. It was a stillness that neither knew how to counter. Silently, Caleb dipped the cloth in a metal basin that was already red with the girl's blood and dabbed at a seeping welt on her shoulder.

"Who did this?" he asked her quietly. Even he could hear the anger in his voice and when he had first discovered she had been hurt he was prepared to search out and kill whoever had done it. The girl stiffened and turned her head a bit to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Who do you think?" she asked somewhat harshly. He recoiled in surprise and then pressed the wet cloth against another raw welt.

"Easy." he said gently, making his voice reassuring. "I'm not your enemy."

She regarded him over her shoulder for a few seconds more and then her dusky shoulders sagged and she sighed.

"_Mwen regrèt, mesye._" she apologized in that musical language she used that sounded like French but was also something else. "I'm ill at ease in the company of men. I didn't mean to bite."

"It's all right." he responded and moved the cloth down her back. She shivered, whether in pain or because the water felt good against her wounds, he didn't know. They were quiet for a while, neither knowing what to say as light began to peak over the trees of the swamp and shine broken shafts of light on the water.

"Are we going to pretend that the moment we had in the water didn't happen?" Caleb finally asked and she pulled her dress even tighter against her chest, stiffening again.

"I don't really know what happened." the girl murmured quietly.

"You called me Uncas." he reminded her as he dipped the cloth in the water again.

"And you called me Alice." she countered.

Another awkward moment of silence as bird song rose in the trees and the gators began to talk to one another from under half submerged logs and other hidden parts of the Bayou. The girl turned at the waist until she was looking at him and seemed to be considering something. Then she set her jaw and held her hand out to him slowly.

"I'm Lyric." she introduced herself as she gave him the barest hint of a smile. Caleb extended his own hand to take hers, saying 'Caleb' as their fingers touched. There was a sensation of wind moving over the skin when their hands touched, of a connection being made. Lyric gave a nervous laugh as she removed her hand; Caleb laughed as well and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"_Bèl mi ou._" she greeted and smiled at him, an expression that lit up her face and left him breathless. He fumbled for the cloth he had dropped and hoped she didn't see how her smile had completely disarmed him. He returned to sponging her back with a small smile on his face.

Across the camp, Clarina pulled back the blood stained bandage on the man's leg and hissed at the smell of infection and the inflamed flesh. She was so busy studying the limb that she missed him reaching out to touch her cheek.

"Who did that?" he demanded as his fingers brushed the bruise on her cheek. Clarina flinched back from his touch with frightened eyes and he put his hands up in a gesture of peace.

Clarina studied his oval shaped face with its ardent green eyes and high cheek bones and realized that he hadn't touched her with anything other than good intentions. She relaxed and knelt to look at his leg again, shaking off her fear in the face of treating his injury.

"A man who was masquerading as a gentleman." she responded tightly, she narrowed her eyes at the bullet hole in his shin and brought her lips together in a tight line as she realized the bullet was still in there. It wouldn't heal properly unless the lead was removed; otherwise he was in real danger of sepsis.

"You give me his name and I swear I'll kill the bastard." the soldier offered, his voice indicating he meant every word. Clarina felt herself smile a little. She turned her now softening face toward his.

"Thank you for the offer," she told him kindly "but I'm fairly certain that if Lyric didn't kill him, she most certainly made sure he'll never use his man parts for anything untoward again. I think she half castrated him."

The soldier turned eyes that were now shining with respect toward Lyric and the Indian, who were speaking quietly as he pressed some torn cloth against her injuries. They were laughing and occasionally smiling. The soldier gave a small chuckle.

"What do you know?" he commented, amused. "Darkie's got some fight in her."

Clarina stiffed and narrowed her eyes at him. He looked back at her in obvious confusion as to what he had done wrong.

"Call her that again and I'll castrate _you._" she threatened darkly. "She's my sister and you will treat her with respect, do you understand me?"

The soldier blinked at her and cleared his throat nervously. Whatever he saw in her face must have convinced him she meant what she said. Finally he nodded.

"All right, I didn't mean anything by it."

"Even so, I don't want to hear you use words like that to describe her again." Clarina said in a clipped tone. He stared at her hard and something different seemed to pass through his dark eyes.

"My god, you're beautiful." he breathed out in awe. Clarina blinked at him and then turned her eyes away nervously. She turned her attention back to his leg so he wouldn't see the blush spreading over her cheeks.

"This bullet needs to be removed or you'll lose the leg, mister…?" she realized she didn't know his name.

"Gray." he offered, still staring at her so strangely. "It's Gray."

"Gray." she repeated. "I'm going to clean this but you need to see a doctor and get that taken care of."

She started to climb to her feet and head for the pail that the Indian had just finished with and fill it with clean water. Gray reached out to gently grasp her hand and she went still, not looking at him but not pulling away either.

"I meant what I said." he insisted firmly. "I'd kill anyone who hurt you."

Her heart beat hard and fast in her chest and she had to swallow several times before she could speak. Finally she turned her blue eyes to stare intently back into his green ones.

"You don't know me." she whispered back. Gray gave her a tender smile.

"I'd love to remedy that. What's your name?"

Clarina pulled her hand away, feeling nervous under his intent gaze.

"You're very forward." she chastised, hiding behind her southern upbringing. Gray laughed at her sudden need for manners.

"Well, there not much room for formality out her." he pointed out to her and she felt a smile lifting at the corners of her mouth in spite of herself.

"Clarina." She finally relented, amusement seeping into her voice. "Clarina Serepta Harris."

"That's kinda a mouthful." he quipped and she laughed with him. "How about just Clarina?"

"That will do, I always hated that middle name. I used to tell mama it made me sound like a serpent."

Then she went off to retrieve some clean water with a smile on her lips and realized that maybe not all men were so bad after all.

Authors note:

(yay for some sappy self-indulgence …but that's what fan fiction is for right? XD anyway, giving a big thanks out to Anne for the feedback. Glad you're enjoying the story. I'm enjoying writing it. Hopefully I can keep up with my once a day update. I'm lucky to get them up at all some days because I have to keep my son from destroying the house. So yeah, thanks again!)

Translation guide:

_Mwen regrèt, mesye._-I'm sorry, sir

_Bèl mi ou._-Nice to meet you


	9. Chapter 9-Springtime starts then stops

Lyric was weary, that was the only word for it. Before her fainting spell she had felt an all compassing sense of completion at finding Uncas at last. She had been exhilarated, relieved, and…in love. Upon waking she merely felt confused and frightened, and her pride was more than a little damaged. Clarina had chastised her for not speaking up about her injuries but she had hardly had time, which she reminded her sister quietly. Then Caleb had requested Clarina take a look at his friend and she was left alone with him.

Lyric felt increasingly nervous as he had washed the blood from her back, shy in a way she had never felt before. Alice's voice had carried her forward into his arms and then gone dormant, leaving Lyric with no sense of what to do with how she felt.

_"Are we going to pretend the moment we had in the water never happened?"_

His words ran through her head over and over and she still had no better answer than the one she given him. How did she put into words that she was completely and irrevocably in love with him and had no means of explaining why. They had just met in that one fleeting moment and it had washed over her strongly enough to make her weep. Now that the moment had passed, she felt used and abandoned by Alice, and all that mixed with how she was feeling now made her irritable.

She and Caleb had spoken briefly after she introduced herself, though not of anything important. She had joked that he had rough hands and he had responded that she should see his feet if she thought his hands were bad. That had been it; that had been their only conversation thus far. Then he had helped to her feet and led her on her stiff, painful legs to the campefire. He had deposited her next to the injured solider and gone to help the older gentleman with whatever he was cooking. Clarina was nearby, filling another pail with water from one of the canteens.

"So, you're Goldie?" the blonde soldier asked, drawing Lyrics attention from Caleb.

"_Eskize m 'konsa?"_ she responded, confused. When he blinked at her she rubbed her head wearily and tried again. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Goldie? You know…his 'Golden girl'?" the man asked as though she should know what he meant. When she still stared at him in confusion he sighed and shifted into a sitting position painfully.

"The girl, the one he's dreamt of his whole life?" the soldier tried again. Lyric realized then that he must mean Alice.

"I suppose." Lyric muttered though she didn't _feel_ like Alice at all. She had dreamt of her for as long as she could remember, true, but she had always just been herself.

"Don't take offense but I don't think you were what he was expecting." the man commented. "He's been in love with some blonde, dream girl his whole life and you're uh…" he paused as though trying to find the words. Lyric glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"A half breed." she finished for him dryly. The man blanched but nodded and seemed unable to think of anything else to say. That was fine by Lyric, he had said enough.

She felt hurt by this revelation in some way and that hurt made no sense to her. Caleb didn't know her; he had no reason to love her in any fashion. Saints above, they had only met a few hours ago and yet, this knowledge that he was in love with Alice caused her distress. The soldier was right, she was as different from the blonde haired, blue eyed girl as one could get. Even their personalities were different.

In her dreams Alice had been soft spoken, demure, and a lady. Lyric was loud, had a temper, and could be downright abrasive at times. Of course Caleb would be in love with the former rather than the darker, mixed race latter. Still, the pain of that truth brought a lump into her throat and she felt angry at the 'Golden Girl' for putting her in this situation. What was the purpose of leading her here?

Clarina returned and made any further conversation impossible, not that Lyric wanted to converse with the man, that she learned later was named Gray, any more than she already had. Clarina began to clean his wound and the two other men came over with whatever Caleb and the older man had been cooking.

Caleb held out a piece of potato to Lyric and she took it without looking at him. Her head and her heart ached and she didn't exactly know why. He took a seat next to her and she felt his eyes studying her profile but couldn't bring herself to look at him.

Once Clarina had finished with Gray's leg a very serious conversation was struck up as to what they should do next. The men explained about how they had lost their unit and ended up on this side of Bayou and then the women explained what had befallen them. When they got to the part about the northern troops reaching the town, Gray looked hopeful.

"Do you think it could be our unit?" he asked his companions. Solomon thought for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, Lad." he responded, saying 'didn't' more like 'Didnae' with his thick accent. "I was knocked unconscious; I don't even know how many of our unit survived."

"It sounds to me like we should head for the town." Caleb added and then glanced at Lyric again. She still refused to look at him.

"Where were you two headed?" the question was asked of Lyric but it was Clarina that answered. She gave a bitter, ironic laugh.

"We weren't _headed _anywhere." she answered curtly. "We were _escaping._ I don't think either of us had a set destination in mind."'

"Well, as you said, Gray needs to see a doctor," Caleb pointed out thoughtfully "and I imagine you don't want to wander around in that night dress forever." Clarina blushed at the mention of her clothing. "Seems to me, we should head toward your home and at least get some food, fresh clothes. Maybe send for the doctor before making too many decisions."

"Return to the house?" Lyric asked, looking up at him as though he were crazy. He caught her eyes and managed to hold them for a few moments before Lyric pulled her glance away again. "That's suicide, what if the General and his men are still there?"

Lyric couldn't hide the shiver that went up her spine at the thought of him. When she closed her eyes she could still see the 'Painted Man' staring back at her. She didn't even want to imagine what Clarina saw when she closed hers.

"You said the North was advancing on the house, right?" Gray put in as Caleb went to lay a reassuring hand on Lyrics shoulder. She flinched at his touch and felt him lower the hand, staring at her worriedly.

"Yes, we heard the gunshots before we ran." Clarina answered.

"If they managed to take the house then General Thibodaux would have been taken prisoner, as would any of his men that survived." Gray reminded everyone. "I think the house is our best shot."

There were nods around the camp, even from Clarina, which surprised Lyric greatly. Lyric had to admit, she saw the benefit of returning to the house. They did need food, fresh clothes, and Clarina couldn't exist in that night dress forever. The truth was that Lyric didn't _want_ to return to that place. She didn't _want_ to return to where he father had died and Clarina had been raped and Delphine had been killed. What she _wanted_ was to put the house behind her forever.

Lyric was also smart enough to realize she couldn't just break off from the group and go it alone right now. She was injured, more so than she had admitted to even Clarina. Her sister had only seen her back and the area above her buttocks. She hadn't seen the awful welts that extended down her rump, all the way to the backs of her calves. The swamp water had irritated the legs wounds and they itched where she sat on the fallen log. No, going it alone would be a death sentence and she knew it.

The matter seemed to have been decided, with everyone aside from Lyric being in agreement. Clarina and Solomon walked off, talking about the state of his arm as she helped the old man with arranging his pack. Lyric stared glumly at the food in her lap and tried to ignore the sound of the bayou which was slowly invading her senses.

"_Ahem_, Caleb?" Gray cleared his throat. Both Lyric and Caleb looked over at him. His eyebrows were drawn together as he inclined his head downward. Caleb shook his head.

"What?" he asked, obviously not following.

"Your uh…hands." He answered, indicating with his head again. Lyric and Caleb glanced over at the hand that was holding a bit of potato and saw nothing wrong with the appendage. Caleb turned back to his friend with an odd expression.

"What about it?" he queried. Gray let out an exasperated puff of air and pointed.

"The _other_ hand, look at your _other_ hand."

Lyric and Caleb looked down between then and gaped as they found their hands clasped gently on the log. Lyric didn't remember him taking her hand and the look on his face indicated that he didn't remember reaching for it. She quickly pulled her fingers out of his and shot him a glare.

"Lyric," he started to explain. "I didn't…"

"_Pa manyen m '!_" she hissed as she jumped to her feet, or as much as her sore body would allow her to. Once again she was feeling vulnerable, hurt and angry. Since Alice wasn't available for her to direct her anger at her, Caleb with his baffled face would have to do.

"Lyric, wait!" he called as she stomped away from camp. She headed for the trees up ahead; she needed a quiet place to think. Lyric heard Clarina yelling after her but she ignored all their voices and stomped stiffly into the thick copse of trees. She walked down a small hill and, once she was as alone as she could get, sagged and caught herself on a wide trunk.

Tears were welling up in her eyes and before she could swallow them, two ran down her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She was acting ridiculous and she knew it. Gray's words about Caleb's love for Alice had made her feel like the biggest fool on the planet. What had she expected really, that they would fall into each other's arms and that everything would be made clear? God, maybe she was a fool.

"Lyric!" she heard Caleb calling from close behind her. She swallowed her tears and scrubbed at her cheeks angrily, the last thing she wanted was for him to see her crying.

"There you are." she heard relief in his voice and wondered who that was for exactly. He came down the short hill as she turned to face him and when he saw the tears in her eyes he looked wounded for her. "Are you crying?" he asked worriedly.

"It would appear" she answered in a sad and angry voice. Her tone had taken him aback.

"Why? What happened back there, why are you so angry?" he asked, taking a step toward her as though he might put his arms around her. If he did that it would be the end of her.

"What's happening here is that I love you!" she cried at him, making him stop in his tracks again. He looked startled by her confession.

"I love you." she repeated more quietly. "I don't know why or how, god knows we know nothing about one another. I just know that they led us to each other and the rub of it is that you love _her_."

Lyric could see from the look on his face that he knew exactly what she was referring to. He gaped at her, unable to speak, and that lack of denial just reaffirmed everything she had been feeling.

"It's too much." she continued, rubbing her forehead with her fingers and trying to fill the sudden silence. "It's all too much. They brought us here and made us feel whatever it is we feel and then they left. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with any of this."

"I love you too." Caleb interrupted quietly. Lyric stopped speaking to gape at him. His face was so open and honest that any further words died in her throat. Caleb took another step closer to her.

"No, you don't." she whispered back. "Not really. You just love the part that you think is her."

"I thought I loved her." Caleb clarified as he closed the distance between them, stopping to stare into her wide eyes. Lyric didn't flee from him but she knew her expression was distrustful as she stared back at him. "For a long time I thought it was her that I was looking for. Then I saw you."

"Caleb." she sighed, tired of this whole mess. She started to lower her eyes but his rough hands came up to cup her cheeks and he made her look at him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Caleb told her so ardently that she felt her resolve cracking around the edges. "I don't know what brought us here or why. I don't have any more answers than you."

"Caleb please…" she pled, fighting the urge to pull his head down to hers and kiss those full lips. She didn't believe, couldn't believe the desire was her own.

"But I knew, in the moment I saw _you,_ that I would follow you anywhere." he finished softly.

Lyric stared into his beautiful eyes with their gold flecks and so wanted to believe what he was saying. She wanted to believe as strongly as he did that their feelings were real and not the product of whatever had brought them together.

"You don't know me." she said in a raspy voice, feeling the tears threatening again.

"I doesn't matter." he murmured, lowering his head "I would love you even if I were blind." Then he caught her lips with his.

The old Lyric would have hit him for doing this, and part of her still wanted to but she felt her hands stealing into his thick hair instead. Her hands roamed over his hair and face as they kissed passionately, barely coming up for air. If he hadn't pulled her in against him and brushed his hand over a painful welt, who knew what might have happened. Lyric came back to herself and jumped away from him as though he had burned her. Her eyes that had been angry before were now frightened.

"_Tanpri, pa fè m 'santi nan fason sa_." She begged in creole. "_Pa fè m 'renmen ou pi plis!"_

He may not have understood her words but her face must have said volumes. He reached out for her again and she jumped back again, shaking her head at him. Then she retreated around him, slowly backing up the hill. He let her go but they kept their eyes locked until she made it to the top of the trees.

"Lyric.." Caleb started to say something but she turned on her heel and fled back to camp. She left him staring after her with his heart in his eyes.

Authors note:

(Ah, angst, always there to help derail something that's happening too fast. I really didn't intend to have the 'I love you's' happen this soon but every time I thought through this scene, it ended with Lyric blurting it out… so I stopped fighting it. I guess it doesn't matter since they're gonna do that back and forth dance for a little while anyway.

Other thing of interest, I create playlist in my head for most of the stories that I write so here's a few songs that make me think of these characters. That is if anyone gives a damn about my very random taste in music XD)

Without you-David Guetta (Caleb's theme)

Coming back to you-The Webb sisters (The title and Lyrics theme XD)

18th Floor Balcony-Blue October (Caleb and Lyric/Uncas and Alice theme)

& Heart-Grace weber (Clarina's theme)

Haitian Translation Guide:

_Eskize m 'konsa?-Excuse me?_

_Pa manyen m '!-_Don't touch me!

_Tanpri, pa fè m 'santi nan fason sa_-Please, don't make me feel this way.

_Pa fè m 'renmen ou pi plis!-_Don't make me love you more!


	10. Chapter 10-Dwe fè atansyon

Lyric wouldn't look at him and Caleb had no idea what to do about it. They had packed up their tiny camp, gotten Gray to his feet and, with his weight supported between Caleb and Solomon, had set off down the road. Clarina walked next to Solomon and Lyric brought up the rear, moving slowly and stiffly, far to the back.

"What happened between you two back there?" Gray asked him when he noticed Caleb glancing over his shoulder at Lyric, who was walking with her eyes on the ground. "Did you have a disagreement?"

He wouldn't call a kiss like _that_ a disagreement but it still left them in a vacuum of silence. He wondered if he should apologize. It would be a hollow apology as he didn't regret kissing her at all. He could still feel the pressure of her lips, how they had opened for him. The memory brought a flush to his face.

"No, not a disagreement." Caleb sighed, repressing any heated memories that wanted to arise. He adjusted Gray's weight with a grunt.

"Well she certainly looks angry. What did you do?" his friend pressed, giving him a grin which he didn't return.

Caleb didn't think she looked angry so much as frightened, with Lyric the two emotions appeared to be one in the same. He had never thought of the dreams or even the push to find Alice as threatening or intrusive, and as such, wasn't bothered by it. In Lyrics case, it scared the hell out of her and he had probably not helped the situation by kissing her.

"Leave him be, Gray." Solomon chastised quietly. The old man had apparently figured out some of what was going on. He had eyes, he had seen their hands clasped as they discussed what their plan would be and had witnessed her reaction both upon leaving and returning to camp.

"Let me take over for a while." Clarina offered as she gently got between Gray and Caleb. She was shorter than Caleb, not as physically fit but she still muscled him out of her way as she snaked an arm around Gray's waist.

"It's all right, I can manage" he started to argue as Gray shot him a 'shut up' glare. Clarina also gave him a serious stare.

"Go speak to her." she requested, indicating over her shoulder with her head. "I'm worried about Lyric, she doesn't look good."

"Yeah, Caleb," Gray followed, grinning wolfishly at his friend over Clarina's dark head. "I'm good here."

Caleb rolled his eyes but did as Clarina suggested and fell back slowly. Lyric moved painfully slow a small ways behind everyone else, and as he got closer, he began to see what Clarina was talking about. Her skin was taking on a waxy pallor, somehow making the café colored flesh appear pale.

She didn't exactly stumble but she did look tired and he realized that she probably hadn't slept in nearly eighteen hours. She had been up all night and hadn't had chance for even a nap back at the camp site, no wonder she looked like she was on the verge of another collapse.

He fell back until he was right next to her but didn't speak. She saw him, he knew she did, but she hadn't acknowledged him yet. They walked along slowly as both tried to find some way to start speaking again.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled faintly, threatening rain. Lyric recoiled from the sound, as though it made her head hurt. Her hands went to her temples and rubbed them, gritting her teeth. He caught her elbows when the motion made her sway and they found themselves staring at each other once again.

Her eyes, when they caught his, were strangely calm considering how she had left him earlier. Now they looked sad, maybe even a little lost. They reminded him of Alice's eyes on the cliff, when everything had fallen apart.

"_Mèsi poutèt ou._" she mumbled quietly. He had no idea what the words meant and fought the urge to trace her lips with his thumb. "I'm better now."

She pulled her elbows from his hands gently and went to step away from him but stumbled again. He caught her before she fell in the damp leaves.

"No, you're not." he told her firmly as he snaked an arm around her waist. She didn't fight him as he expected. He helped her make her way over the dusty, uneven ground. Caleb wanted to ask why she was having so much trouble all of a sudden but the words didn't want to form. Instead, he helped her along in silence and tried to think of a way to talk about what happened earlier without making her retreat again.

"I'm sorry," she spoke quietly, pulling him out of his internal debate "that I ran from you."

He glanced down at her and found she was staring back at him with her mouth pulled into a rather tight line. Maybe she wasn't used to apologizing to anyone.

"I ran because the whole situation was overwhelming not because of the kiss." She finished and blushed. After a moment, he gave her a half smile.

"I was going to apologize for that but it would have been a lie. I'm not really sorry at all."

She laughed and after a moment so did he. He liked her laugh; it was loud like a man's but still feminine enough to be pretty. When the laughter faded they were still left with the oddness of the situation, a fact that hadn't escaped Lyric.

"As you've probably gathered, I'm not very good at this." she said rather glumly. "My interactions with men have always been…" she couldn't seem to find a word for it.

"Unpleasant?" he offered, helpfully. She gave him a sad smile.

"I was going to say harrowing but either word will do. I don't like feeling used."

"You think Alice used you?" he asked, a little surprised at the conclusion. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't?" she countered.

"Not really, it's something I've always just accepted. Uncas wanted me to him her and I did. I just didn't expect the _other _side of it." He clarified. The _other_ side, meaning her, was left hanging in the air and neither of them moved to jump on that particular issue.

"Did you mean it?" she asked after a moment and again he looked at her questioningly.

"Mean what?" he asked.

"About loving _me_ rather than her? Was that the truth?" this felt like a dangerous question because either answer he gave might send her back into a flight. He didn't want to make her retreat when they were just starting to make some progress.

"Yeah, it was." he said after a moment's hesitation. "Every word."

"Then…" she began slowly, thinking through what she wanted to say "be patient with me, please? I don't know how to respond to any of this."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." he told her with a grin. She returned it somewhat tightly. Her eyes were sad and he didn't know how to take that sadness away.

"_Nou pral wè_." She whispered with a sigh.

"What?" Lyric shook her head, either because she didn't want him to know what she said or it was unimportant.

They spent the next hour speaking of mundane things, she told him about her mother and he told her about the orphanage he and Gray grew up in. He told her his first name and she gave him a bemused face.

"Chula and Caleb do not sound alike." She commented. Lyric was a little steadier on her feet now, so they walked along holding hands. She hadn't pulled away when he had dropped his arm from her waist and clasped her fingers instead.

"Well, the orphanage wanted something that sounded close so, Caleb it was." he explained with a shrug.

"Chula suites you better." she complimented and he felt a flush building in his face. He cleared his throat and tried to bring the conversation back to her.

"So you see people as…'other'?" he prompted, remembering her story of the faux exorcism her mother had put her through. Lyric nodded and fidgeted with a curl that had fallen over her dusky shoulder. He thought about what she had told him and then pointed to Solomon who was speaking quietly to Clarina. Gray looked put out that he was being ignored.

"What about Solomon? What do you see when you look at him?" Caleb asked. Lyric gave her amused laugh again.

"I don't always see something, Caleb. It's random, I can't do it on command."

"Well, have you tried?" he asked, liking how her face lit up when she smiled and how she brushed her hair over her shoulder and pulled it back again when she was nervous.

"No." she responded solemnly. "It…hasn't served me well."

"House is up ahead." Solomon called back to them. Caleb looked up the road, shielding his eyes with one hand. He could make out the slopping roof of a large house farther up the rising path. A steady stream of white smoke wafted along in the breeze, looking bright against the gathering storm front. His nose also caught the scent of burnt wood.

Caleb let go of Lyric's hand and prepared to make his way up the path and eventually into the surrounding trees so he could assess the situation at the house. Lyric surprised him by reaching out to grab his hand again.

"Chula." she said his true name worriedly. He turned back to look at her in surprise, finding he liked the way the name sounded on her lips.

Her caramel colored eyes were wide and scared, she didn't want him to go up to that house. He gave her a gentle smile and stepped forward to grip her upper arms in his hands.

"Someone has to make sure it's safe." he explained softly. "Solomon and Gray are injured; I'm the only one able to move quickly and quietly enough to check it out."

"Must we go back there?" she asked in a whisper. It was obvious she would rather be anywhere but here.

"We need food." he reminded her. "And Gray needs a doctor. I'll be all right." He leaned in to press his lips against her hairline. Her skin felt cool against his lips and he felt her take one of his hands and press something into it.

"If you must go up there, take this with you." she pled and he looked down to see his own knife being pressed against his palm.

"How-?" he gaped at the weapon that he had thought was lost in the confusion of battle. How had Lyric ended up with it?

"I hate the idea of you going up there alone." She continued, having not noticed his reaction to the blade. She gripped his fingers around the hilt and turned his face back to hers with her free hand.

"I don't know what any of this means or why they brought us together." she told him firmly, speaking quickly. "But I don't plan on losing another person to that damn house. _Dwe fè atansyon."_

Caleb studied her eyes and leaned his forehead against hers with a sigh. They stayed like that a moment longer before he released her. With great effort he walked back over to Solomon, who was lowering Gray against a tree trunk and sitting down himself. Clarina was fussing with Gray's leg as he made a show of grimacing to keep her attention.

Silently, Solomon handed him a smaller Colt and a few extra bullets. He loaded the handgun and moved a little ways up the path before stepping up the tree line that eventually led into swamp. He paused long enough to glance back at Lyric, who was staring at him with worried dark eyes. He gave her a tight smile and then disappeared from sight.

Haitian Translation Guide:

_Mèsi poutèt ou._-Thank you.

_Nou pral wè-_We'll see_._

_Dwe fè atansyon.-_Be careful_._


	11. Chapter 11-Take Love and Make the Best

It turned out that there was no need for stealth or hiding, the house and its surrounding property was completely empty. Caleb was only gone long enough to ascertain that the plantation grounds were quiet and deserted before returning to the group and gesturing them up the hill.

The house itself had been partially damaged by cannon and gun fire, making the southern half a broken, ruined wreck. The northern side, through ransacked, was mostly untouched by artillery damage. Caleb and Solomon helped Gray up the front stairs and into the hallway, stepping over bullet casings and broken glass. Once they had gotten him up the stairs and into the upper hallway, Clarina and Lyric paused and looked to where Delphine's body had been.

All that was left of the girl was a wide stain where she had bled into the carpet; whoever had ransacked the house had at least been kind enough to remove the bodies. A peek into the study showed similar blood stains but again, no bodies. Lyric and Clarina shared a curious glance between them before leading the men toward the Madame's rooms.

Clarina took a deep breath before pushing the door in and looked pained at how it had been torn apart, as though someone had been looking for money. Dresses were strewn across the floor and the dressing mirror lay in jagged shards on the rug. The bed, however, was untouched.

Once Gray was situated amongst the opulent pillows, the remaining men and two women took stock of what had been left behind. Solomon checked the barn and reported that there were no horses but that the chickens were still pecking about and there was a cow or two in the pasture.

Lyric and Solomon checked the store house and founds it too, had been stripped of all but a few small potatoes. Lyric let out an irritated puff of air then rallied and gestured that the older gentleman should follow her. She took him past the burned out and gutted Slave Quarters where the bodies of people she used to know had been left in the path. Whoever had been here had seen fit to remove the inhabitants of the house but the slaves were left to rot, she shouldn't have been surprised.

She pointedly avoided looking at them; she couldn't bring herself to, not if she wanted to keep what few wits remained to her. Lyric led Solomon to a small stream behind one of the burned out shacks, which eventually ran its way into the swamp. They approached a dark overhang of rock where Lyric struggled to move one of the larger stones. When she did, she drew out a small net which contained a number of squirming, writhing Crayfish.

"It won't be a full course meal but it's better than nothing." she told him with a weary smile.

"It's more than we thought we would have." Solomon agreed. "How did you know it was here, lass?

"When the Overseers feel we need to be 'taught our place'," Lyric explained as she emptied the contents of the net into a burlap sack she had taken from the kitchen "they sometimes denied us food. No one can work the fields on an empty stomach so we had this as a backup."

Her hands stilled as she tied the sack, as the full impact hit her that none of her friends would ever eat these crayfish again, not one. She felt her hands tremble as that truth washed over her. Solomon walked forward and removed the sack from her hands, laying it aside before holding out a hand to help her up.

"We'll bury them, Lassie." he promised, his eyes kind as he gave her a smile. "They won't have to stay where they lay."

Lyric took his hand numbly, repressing a cry of pain as she stood up. She appreciated his words greatly, even if he didn't intend to keep his word. She appreciated the gesture. it was the most kindness she had ever heard out of any white man.

As they made their way back toward the house, she paused at the shack that had been hers and Delphine's. It leaned in on itself, black and burned. She didn't have the best memories when it came to this shack but it had been her home for as long as she could remember. Seeing it so ill-treated was painful indeed.

She steeled her emotions and walked carefully into the destroyed structure. She ducked and crawled over to the blackened pallet she had shared with her friend. Swallowing her emotions, she pulled up the charred pallet and reached a hand underneath to feel for the jar she always kept there. It came out covered in soot but virtually untouched. She twisted off the lid to peek at the brick dust inside.

There would probably be enough to spread around the doors and windows of the house, though she would have to make more if they stayed any longer than one night. She would be damned if she slept in that house without its protection.

Solomon was true to his word. While Clarina and Lyric bathed and changed, he and Caleb gathered every last slave and buried them in the woods, near the Harris family plot. She found them mopping their dusty brows in the kitchen after Clarina helped her tame her hair into a ponytail that lay over one shoulder.

"You truly did it?" she gasped, one hand held in a loose fist at her chest. The two men regarded her with sympathetic eyes.

"I promised we would, didn't I?" Solomon answered in his kind voice. Lyric felt the tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to fall. Caleb saw her eyes beginning to swim and stood up from his chair, looking stricken.

"I…I…" she couldn't get the words out. She wanted to thank them but she couldn't speak around the lump in her throat.

"I know, Lass." Solomon responded quietly. "You're welcome."

It was his utter kindness that did it, the gentleness and compassion in his voice. Lyric buried her face in her hands and began to sob. She wasn't used to showing weakness in front of anyone, let alone men, and had the situation not been what it was she might have retreated to a private place to have a good cry. She was brought too low by grief to care _who_ saw her cry now.

She heard Caleb's feet moving quickly across the floor as he came to her side, she felt his hand on her arm and heard him say her name. Caleb pulled her hands from her face and she stared at him for half a second before throwing herself against his chest, still sobbing. The force of her embrace knocked him back on his heels but Caleb didn't hesitate; he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her in against him, murmuring words that she could only assume were Choctaw endearments.

As her tears began to slow, she realized more fully the intimacy of the embrace, the closeness of him. She became painfully aware of his arms wrapped around her. Her grief was slipping back below the surface and in its stead was that familiar wariness. It was the same wariness that made her retreat from his arms in the forest, the wariness that made her pull back from him after her collapse. She felt herself pulling away again, she pushed back from his chest slowly and he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, staring into her face tenderly.

"Better, _laholl_o?" he murmured, running his thumbs along her cheeks to wipe away any stray tears. She didn't know what the word meant but she assumed it was a term meant for lovers, which they were not. His closeness made her nervous and she nodded quickly before disentangling herself from his arms and scrubbing at her face with her hands.

"Yes, I-I'm sorry for that." she stammered at them. Solomon shook his head at her.

"No need for apologies, lass. You've earned a few tears, I think." Caleb studied her face and she tried to smile at him reassuringly to show she would be all right, though she didn't know that she would _ever_ be alright.

Once Caleb felt content enough that Lyric wouldn't have another break down, he headed out for town by foot. It would not be a very long walk, he was leaving only long enough to fetch the doctor and inquire about their Unit. The two women insisted he leave his uniform behind. Partly, because it was filthy and they planned to wash everything, uniforms included. The other reason was a real fear that if their Unit had not been successful, the Confederate army would take him prisoner.

Caleb thought this fear was silly, as he was fairly certain the ransacking of the house had been done by Union soldiers. When Clarina looked scandalized he explained that the reasoning was probably that they believed everyone in the house to be dead so any items remaining were fair game. They had no way of knowing Clarina had fled into the bayou so they took what was available, simple as that.

Clarina didn't seem at peace with his explanation but didn't argue the point. Caleb left Solomon to look after the two women and Lyric watched his tall form disappear down the road from the kitchen window. She felt a new tightness in her chest as she watched him fade into the distance. There was a desolation that came with his absence and it was that feeling of desolation that un-nerved her.

Lyric didn't know him, and as such, should not feel anything in regards to his absence or presence. At least, that's what her mind told her but apparently no one had told it to her heart. She tried to ignore the feeling as she pumped water into the basin to wash the crawling, clicking crayfish and prepare them for the stew she was going to make. It would be a weak jambalaya by Louisiana standards but it would still be sustenance. She doubted anyone would complain. Clarina sat in a chair by the open window and struggled to fix a tear in one of her father older shirts. If she could let it out a bit, it might just fit Solomon.

That was how the day went as they waited for Caleb to return with the doctor. First, the women washed the soldier's dusty clothes and hung them out to dry. Lyric eyed the dark clouds on the horizon, frowning and hoping that Caleb made it back before the rain hit.

While the women washed and hung laundry, Solomon searched the garden out back for any remaining vegetables and managed to scrounge up some carrots and turnips. Then he left to try his hand at chopping wood one handed while the women retired to the kitchen.

Clarina cursed as she stabbed her finger with a needle and stuck it in her mouth, groaning in exasperation.

"Oh, damn mama for never letting me learn anything practical!" the petite girl swore as she removed her finger from her lips and shook it.

Lyric smiled tiredly as Clarina threw down the offending garment and took up a pair of socks that needed darning instead.

"You won't find that much easier." Lyric pointed out. Clarina made a face and laid the socks on the table, running her hands through her tight curls in frustration. She had changed from the night dress into a plain riding smock that they had found in a trunk in the attic, all her finer gowns having been pilfered along with anything else that could be used for money. Lyric rubbed her wet hands on her apron to dry them and made her way over to Clarina's chair.

"I'll do that," she offered and pointed at the counter and the meager vegetables that lay there. "Why don't you chop those?"

Clarina nodded and went gratefully to do something that didn't involve fighting with small stitches. As they worked on their tasks, Lyric began to sing softly to herself in Creole. She sang to keep her mind from worrying after Caleb, thinking about the Painted man, or anything else that wanted to crowd into her thoughts. She didn't realize Clarina was listening until she spoke.

"You have a lovely voice." Clarina complimented. Lyric stopped in her singing, feeling suddenly insecure.

"You don't have to stop." her sister said with a laugh. "It was a compliment, not a complaint.

"_Regrèt_." Lyric mumbled as a blush burned across her cheeks. "I'm not used to having an audience. Your mother once thrashed me for singing too loudly while I cleaned."

"Well, mama's not here anymore and you sing beautifully." Clarina told her firmly and then smiled as she turned back to the vegetables. "Please continue, it's a nice distraction."

Lyric gave her sisters back a humoring smile and thought for a moment, then remembered one song she used to hear the other Slave girls sing when they were courting someone. It seemed appropriate since she herself was in love, even if the circumstances were more than a little odd.

"_Mwen pap janm di mwen pa janm pral renmen…_" she began, her voice rising and falling softly. Clarina didn't know the words to the song but she harmonized well enough and soon they were both carrying the tune sweetly.

"_Epi pwomèt nou pa pwomèt_…" Lyric sang as she picked up an undershirt of Caleb's. She stared at it, remembering the kiss in the woods. She thought about how she felt when he pulled her face to his, how her tongue had stolen into his mouth and he had kissed her so hungrily.

Then she thought about how she had fled from him, fled from her feelings, and how the song she was singing suited their relationship. It was about waiting for love to return and opening the door for it when it did. Was she willing to open the door? Was she prepared to set her caution aside?

"_Epi mwen pral kite kle nan pwochen nan papòt la._" she finished a little breathlessly.

Lyric traded back with Clarina after that, right as Solomon returned with what wood he had managed to cut with only one arm. He looked overheated and red-faced as he came through the door so Clarina hastened him into the sitting room and took him a glass of water.

Lyric, for her part, remained in the stuffy kitchen for the rest of the day, toiling over the jambalaya. Caleb returned close to dusk with Dr. Phelps in tow. The doctor was a round, arrogant, weasel of a man with tiny eyes and a perpetually running nose. Lyric had never liked him when he had come to the house to deliver the Madame's children as he had little regard for slaves. Many a slave woman had died in childbirth because he refused to help them; she wondered how he felt about treating a Union soldier.

She rubbed the ball of her hand against her tired eyes and tried to fight off the encroaching exhaustion. It had been worsening the entire journey back to the house, only improving briefly during her conversation with Caleb. She thought that she might be able to stave it off a little longer as she and Clarina worked but it just seemed to be getting worse.

It was not improved by the time the doctor left and she didn't bother asking him to look her over as he would have refused outright. She was told later that he had removed the bullet fragment and given Gray some morphine to help him sleep. Dr. Phelps told Clarina the wound was indeed infected and needed to be washed and dressed several times a day. There was some talk about their Unit but she didn't hear any of it.

Lyric was not feeling better by the time dinner was set out on the table and her four able bodied companions sat down to eat. They ate what she made heartily, they complimented it but she could only smile at their words wearily. She was having a hard time keeping the room in focus. As she looked around at each of the people at the table she saw them as someone else. Perhaps this was simply because she was so tired or maybe it was because they truely were other people? She felt too numb and muted to care.

In Solomon's place was the shadow of an old Indian man with hair pulled so far back from his scalp that it was almost in a Mohawk. Over one eyebrow, a snake like tattoo appeared to slither and from one ear hung a disk like earring. He was the 'Father', Uncas and the 'White man dressed as the red man's' father.

In Clarina's place was the 'strong sister', face lit with laughter and dark eyes shining with mirth. Then she swung her eyes to Caleb and found…him. Uncas was there, watching the two conversing with his normal stoic expression. Over his shoulders and down his back trailed all that long dark hair. One his wrists hung gold bracelets and when he lifted a glass to his lips she could see a tattoo encircling them as well.

Lyric saw them through exhausted, sleep deprived eyes. She wondered what she would see if she were to look over at the mirror across the table. Would she see a blonde, timid girl staring back at her? She was losing sight of where Alice ended and Lyric began. That was her greatest concern in all this wasn't it, the idea of losing herself and becoming the other girl?

Unable to fight the weariness any longer, Lyric laid her head against the tops of her hands where they rested on the table. She let out a sigh, only intending to rest her eyes long enough to come back to herself. Her body, however, had reached the end of its tether and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Authors note:

(Sending out thanks yous to Ann and DearestAmy for their kind reviews, I'm really glad that you like Lyric and Caleb as much as I do. I wrote this story with some reservations about how it would be received. I still love the Uncas/Alice pairing but I felt that I needed to try something different from my earlier stuff. The first time I tried to write anything different *cough* (Shiloh) it was rather oddly received so I abandoned it.

I've been working on my own novel for so long that it took me a while to get into the Alice/Uncas mindset again. I wrote my earlier fics during a time of deep depression. They were my escape from a job I hated. Now that I'm older and really trying to break into the world of published works, it makes for a different kind of story coming out here.

I hope you all keep reading, I will warn anyone squeamish that there is going to be some rather graphic sexual material appearing in future chapters. I'll try to put a warning at the top of those so if any of you don't want to read graphic sexytimes, you'll be forewarned XD. Again, thank you for reading and reviewing!)

Choctaw word used by Caleb:

_Lahollo_-Beloved one/Dear one

Haitian Phrases translation:

_Regrèt_.-Sorry

_Mwen pap janm di mwen pa janm pral renmen-_I'll never say I'll never love

_Epi pwomèt nou pa pwomèt-_Promise not to promise

_Epi mwen pral kite kle nan pwochen nan papòt la._-I'll leave the key next to the door


	12. Chapter 12-Tenderness

Caleb had just finished informing Solomon that their Unit had indeed come through and secured the nearby town though had been forced to move on to the larger port city of New Orleans. According to what he had heard, the north was launching an attack in the coming weeks and their Unit was expected to take the city from the back.

He glanced over at Lyric almost arbitrarily and frowned when he took in the dark circles under her eyes. She stared mutely at her bowl of Jambalaya with a glassy expression, stirring it but barely eating. When he saw her she laying her head against her hands he felt a sharp twinge of concern but when her head didn't come back up, concern gave way to alarm.

"Lyric?" he called worriedly. His voice interrupted whatever Clarina had been saying and she stopped speaking, to follow his line of sight to the slumped girl.

"Lyric?" Clarina gasped worriedly as Caleb pushed up out of his chair and walked quickly over to where Lyric rested on the table. He knelt next to her chair and laid a hand against the side of her face. When she didn't respond his alarm went up another notch and became panic.

"_Lahollo,_" he said more urgently, pulling her back from the table by her shoulders until her head slumped back against the chair. He patted her cheeks gently until her eyes fluttered open enough to stare at him blearily.

"Chula…" she mumbled sleepily. "_regrèt ... Se konsa fatige ..."_

Then her eyes closed again and she sighed quietly. Caleb realized he should have seen this coming, the girl was completely exhausted. Not only had she been up all night running around in the Bayou but she had been physically active the entire day as well, it was no great surprise she had fallen asleep at the table.

"Is she ill?" Clarina asked as Caleb climbed back to his feet and leaned down to pull one of Lyric's arms around his shoulder. He slid one arm under her legs and his other around her back as he lifted her limp form up from the chair.

"She's tired." he answered, adjusting her slim weight. "I'll take her upstairs." Lyric lay unmoving against him, with her head resting between his shoulder and neck. She didn't move as he walked around the table with her, heading for the hall. Caleb heard Clarina pushing back from her chair as well.

"Which room?" he called over his shoulder as he carried Lyric up the stairs.

"Third door on the left. " Clarina called after him. "Do you need help?"

"I've got her." he called back and then stepped into the upper hallway. Lyric shifted slightly in his arms and mumbled something in Creole. He shushed her quietly as he found the door to the room Clarina had mentioned. Balancing her against the door frame, he fiddled with the knob until it turned and then carried her into the room.

Once inside, he found the problem with his plan. Lyric was still laced into her day dress and would most likely boil if he left her in it considering the humidity. He could fetch Clarina and have her undress the girl but that would be difficult for the smaller Clarina was smaller to hold Lyric upright just to get the dress off. Not an easy feat considering the girl she'd be trying to undress was taller than her and barely conscious.

Caleb carried Lyric over to the bed and lowered her onto it, realizing _he_ was going to have to be the one to undress her, not the most comfortable of prospects. He had never been in a situation like this with any woman, let alone one he cared for. He decided to play it safe by not lighting a lantern and to only strip her to her bloomers, at least that way he was unlikely to see anything she wouldn't want him to see.

He pulled the sleeping girl up and forward until she fell forward against his chest and fumbled with the buttons at the back of her dress. She sighed against his neck, breathing out something else in creole.

"Mmmmmm… _Chula_…_rete.."_ was what it sounded like.

"Shhhhhh, _lahollo, Nusi."_ he said soothingly. He had managed to get the buttons at the back undone and was now fighting with the lacings of her corset. Once he had it untied, Caleb marveled that women tied themselves into these hard boned torture devices at all. He fought with it until he managed to pull it off and set the blasted thing aside. All that was left to do was slide the dress down her arms and pull it off. He laid her back on the pillows as he tugged the dress down her legs and laid it neatly over a nearby chair.

He was turning back with the intention to pull the covers down and slide her under them when a brief flash of heat lightening lit up the room and all his attempts at maintaining modesty were for naught. Caleb had left Lyric in her bloomers, as intended, but the brief flash of lightning showed that the bloomers left very little to imagination. He could make out her dark skin through the thin fabric, her long slender legs and the barest hint of pert breasts tipped with dark nipples. He looked away with his mouth feeling dry and rubbed at his face nervously.

All right, he could do this. All he needed to do was get her under the covers and that was it. He would do it quickly and try not to think about the barely concealed body that was just as lovely as the rest of her. He took a deep breath and leaned down to pull her up once more when another flash of lightning lit up her sleeping face.

It was soft and vulnerable in the flash of light, peaceful. Her full lips were parted ever so slightly as he chest rose and fell. He brushed back some loose black curls that had fallen over her forehead and studied the delicate features, thinking that he would go mad with tenderness at the sight of her face. He quickly arranged her under the blanket and fought the urge to kiss her.

Caleb backed up to the door and quickly fled out into the hall; he shut the door behind him and leaned against it tiredly. Every part of him wanted to stay with her but he and Solomon were going to take turns keeping watch tonight lest there be any Confederate soldiers wandering about still. Besides, he didn't know how much she would welcome his presence.

They were making slow progress with one another but it was often stifled by her wariness. He couldn't blame her for not trusting him; she had no reason in the world to do so. He was a stranger, a union soldier, and dreams or no dreams, it was still a lot to take in. Still, even she couldn't deny that it was strange they shared the _same_ dream about the _same_ people. She couldn't deny that she had ended up with _his_ knife a mere hour before finding him.

The whole thing felt orchestrated and that seemed to be what frightened her the most. Caleb banged his head against the door in agitation and rubbed his sweating palms against his pants. He needed a distraction, something completely unrelated to the half-naked girl sleeping in the room behind him.

He also scowled down at the front of his trousers and the part of him that refused to comply with the distraction plan. Heaving a heavy sigh he, ran his hands back through his hair and pushed away from the door. He headed for the back servants stairs and maybe, a glass of whiskey, if the troops hadn't stolen that too.

Authors note:

(Ok, now I will be getting into the more complicated part of the story. Also, I will prepare to jump into other characters POV since we haven't heard much from Clarina and Gray. Should be interesting to say the least.

In response to Anne about the stuff I'm trying to publish: yes, I will post a link or something when I get to that point. I'll probably end up going the self publishing/E-Publishing route because agent and companies aren't taking on new people right now. I'd probably have a better shot if I wanted to write in the twilight style genre but uh, no…I like characters with personalities, thank you XD. The series is fantasy based, my friend and I started writing them when I was 15 and they've finally come around to having a more mature plot line. I'm about half way through writing book one (There are five total, plus short accompanying stories), once it's done and decently edited we can move forward from there.

Ok, as always, thank you for reading!)

Haitian Translation Guide:

_regrèt ... Se konsa fatige –_Sorry…so tired…

_Rete_-Stay

Choctaw Translation Guide:

_Lahollo_-beloved

_Nusi_-Sleep


	13. Chapter 13-The Dark Man

General Braxton Thibodaux stared Brigadier General Mouton in the face and lied. It was easy enough; he had been doing it long enough to have learned how to mold his face into any emotion he pleased. Brigadier Richard T. Mouton took in General Thibodaux's tale of woe with the prefect mixture of horror and compassion, which was what Thibodaux, had been counting on.

"And so," he continued, putting enough sorrowful anger into his voice to keep up the ruse "The mulatto half breed attacked me in the most vicious fashion and ran off with my fiancé into the Bayou. I would have given chase even with my injury but the arrival of the Northern aggressors made that impossible"

The last part, at least, was true enough. The men that survived had been forced to retreat and the house, as well as the neighboring town, had fallen to the north. His men had born him, bleeding like a stuck pig to the next way point and finally to General Mouton's camp. It was here that the surgeons had done all they could but the blade had done too much damage to his testicles. The Mulatto bitch had essentially castrated him.

General Mouton's bearded face was aghast that any slave would turn on her master and kill him, let alone kidnap the youngest daughter at knife point. And to un-man General Thibodaux in such a gruesome fashion simply could not go unpunished, or so he hoped.

"The confederate army sympathizes with your recent troubles Thibodaux," the Brigadier General told him sorrowfully "and if we had the man power to spare, we would have every man out looking for the Mulatto murderess and your bride to be. Unfortunately, all who can fight are being sent to defend New Orleans from the northern invaders."

This was not what Thibodaux had expected to hear. Surely a slave turning on her masters, not to mention attacking a high ranking general of the Confederate Army warranted some kind of attention?

"Are you telling me that my Clarina must remain in that Harpy's hands?" he demanded, angry and trying to modulate his tone into one of a wounded and concerned lover.

"Again, we sympathize with your plight," General Mouton repeated "but we simply haven't the available men to launch a search."

"Surely one or two men could be spared, I'm prepared to go myself." he argued, feeling a familiar desperation rising in him. If the army found Clarina before he did then he would find himself with a mess on his hands indeed. At least if he found her first he could claim she lost her mind at the hands of the half breed. He stood no chance if she was allowed to tell her story first.

Braxton Thibodaux had always found a way to get what he wanted, whether what he wanted was a fine meal or the prettiest girl in the room, one way or another he would have it. The Confederate army had given him an easy way to fulfill this need and because he was so good at covering his tracks, it had never been a problem. It also helped that he chose men for his unit that had benefited from his …activities.

He always chose his victims from the lower end of the aristocracy, property owners of no great name or fortune who preferably lived in the country. Once he got himself invited to their home, and he always did, he helped himself to whatever was there. Sometimes it was a pretty daughter, sometimes a vintage bottle of wine; lately he had been searching for a woman to bear his son.

Clarina had been the third women he had tried to shoe horn into the position. The first had been a farmer's daughter who had bled out before he could complete the act. He had hit her too hard with the butt of his rifle, trying to silence her. The second had taken her own life while his back was turned, pilfering his derringer and putting the barrel in her mouth. Clarina, pretty little Clarina, had been his most recent choice.

Being birthed from a woman who had managed to bear five children who grew to adulthood, surely the daughter would have some of the mother's heartiness. He had been concerned about her petite build but the voice, the _Dark Man_, had assured him she was the one.

"As I have already said General, we haven't the man power to spare. I ask that once you have recovered, you put aside your grief and take up the mantel of the Confederacy once more." Mouton commanded in a voice that was firm and unmoving. "We need all the good men we can get."

_Do as he asks._ the _Dark Man's_ whispery voice told him. _Play the part. Once we are well we will find the mulatto bitch and the girl. We will dispense with the half breed and wait for the girl to bear your son._

Inwardly, he smiled at these words. It was the voice that had guided him for as long as he could remember, that told him where to look, when to duck, and who to kill. He relied on the voice implicitly, trusting its judgment. If it said that Clarina had indeed conceived his child, even from their brief encounter, he would trust it.

"Of course, sir." Thibodaux said as he heaved a heavy sigh that he hoped was despondent enough. "For my Clarina, if nothing else, I will do it. Someone must win this war for victims like her."

They praised him, for his valiant words and then took their leave. Little did they know that Thibodaux had no intention of fighting to protect New Orleans or anywhere else in Louisiana. He might pretend that New Orleans was where he would head to, but once he and his remaining unit were cleared for battle, he would only keep up the pretense until they were out of sight of the small camp. Then he would let the voice lead him to wherever the women hid and then the fun…well, and then the fun would truly begin.

Author's note:

(Normally I would have made myself wait to update until tomorrow but I really wanted to get this chapter posted so that I can post the scene I _really_ like tomorrow. Plus, there needed to be another Thibodaux scene, we haven't heard from him in a while and he's kinda my villain so I have to give him a little bit of page time, right? So there you go folks, an extra chapter. Enjoy!)


	14. Chapter 14-I go weak

**Warning: Sexual content ahead**

_ Alice stared at the waterfall, transfixed. The group had fled behind its waters to escape the Huron war party that was pursuing them. Alice had wandered off from the group, traumatized by all she had seen and lost in her own darkness. She had become entranced by the flow of the water as it fell before her, the rainbow colors it made in the fading light. She thought 'What would it feel like to touch a rainbow?' and had stepped forward to do so. She was reaching out her hand, her fingers were so close to the myriad of colors, and then she was being hauled backwards._

_ "Get back!" a voice hissed as arms pulled her away from the cascading water. She was so startled, so frightened, that she clung to whoever had grabbed her, hyperventilating. The arms held her while she shook, rocking her, trying to calm her and when none of that worked, Uncas turned her face up to his and kissed her._

_ All her movements stilled with the touch of his lips, her breathing, her trembling, even her heartbeat. His lips were soft against hers and she felt herself folding against him. He pulled back to stare into her eyes, to see if she had come back to herself and to him. That was when she had scrambled over him and settled into his lap._

_ Alice straddled his waist and kissed him desperately in the fading light, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was startled by the action at first, but soon responded, dancing his tongue over hers as she reached down to pull his shirt out of his waist belt._

_ She needed to feel something that wasn't fear and pain; she needed him to drown out the noise in her head. Uncas grabbed her hands where they were tugging at his shirt and looked at her questioningly as she begged him with her eyes to give her this. He looked uncertain; concerned he would be taking advantage of her in a weak moment. Alice leaned in to kiss him again, forcing all her emotion, all of her pain, and all of her love into that one kiss._

_ It must have been enough. Uncas relented and helped her pull the shirt over his head before helping her slip out of her sodden dress. There was danger coming, it could arrive at any moment but they didn't care. If this was the last moment they would have together, they weren't going to waste it waiting for death._

_ Alice could feel the cold spray of the water on her bare skin as she settled herself over him; she could feel it flattening her hair against her face and shoulders. Uncas pushed the hair back from her forehead as he locked eyes with her. She nodded and he pushed himself up inside her. She arched her back, throwing her head back with a gasp at the sensation of him moving inside her. There should have been pain but there was nothing but joy. _

_ When her head came down again and she caught his eyes once more, she found that his eyes had gold flecks in them. There was some part of her mind that recognized this was wrong; they should be the color of chocolate, shouldn't they?_

_ His hands ran up her sides to cup her breasts and his head dipped down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She forgot about his eye, about everything, as she stole her hands into his hair and held his head against her breast, moaning. When he lifted his face to hers for a kiss, she found that his hair had also changed. It should have been long, falling to his waist, but when she looked at it, it only reached his shoulders. _

_ Her mind disregarded all of these differences as he began to thrust into her faster, she let out a low moan and watched his features shift minutely between that of Uncas to those of Caleb and back again. Caleb, how had she known the other man's name?_

_ Uncas was under the Waterfall with Alice; she was naked on top of him, straddled in his lap as he pushed himself into her warm flesh. He had not intended to take her this way but she had removed that option from his hands. She had begged him first with her eyes, and then her lips, and now with her body, to give her something other than darkness. _

_ He knew that doing this in their current situation was dangerous; the Huron war party could find them at any moment but, once they had started, it was impossible to stop. His hands gripped her hips as they found their mutual rhythm._

_ Alice arched her back as he moved inside her, throwing her head back with a low moan. When she came back down, the hair that tumbled around her face and shoulders was not gold but black, and the eyes that stared down into his were the color of caramel, like liquid amber. Then he blinked and it was Alice once again._

_ Uncas gave himself a shake and ran his hands up her sides to cup her breasts in his hand before leaning forward to roll one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned and held his head in place, whispering endearments into the dark. He allowed himself to enjoy the effect it was having on her before darting up to capture her mouth again. When he looked up, he found the dark girl had returned. Lyric, he realized he knew this other girls name. This should have been wrong to him but somehow it was not, and he didn't take the time to ask why._

_ The two moved together in the dark, faces changing from Alice to Lyric or Caleb to Uncas and back again like water shifting rocks in a stream. With the rising of her body she would be Alice, when she fell again she would be Lyric. He would lean forward to kiss a line along her collarbone as Uncas and come back again as Caleb, back and forth, back and forth, over and over, until they cried their release into the dark cavern. The sound was lost in rush of water from behind them._

_ Alice, who was also Lyric, fell against Uncas, who was also Caleb, with a gasp and he caught her up, holding her against him as she trembled with release rather fear. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she loved him, and the sound of gunfire startled them both upright._

Lyric sat up in the sheets with a loud gasp, her hands pressed over her mouth. She was still lost in the remnants of the erotic dream she had just had. She could still see the gold flecks shining in eyes that should have been Uncas. She could still feel the roughness of Caleb's hands trailing up her waist. Oh, saints above, what was happening to her?

Lyric glanced around a room she didn't recognize and couldn't recall where she was or how she had gotten there. How had she ended up in this stuffy room that was far nicer than anywhere she had ever slept? Where was the waterfall, where was the man that was both Caleb and Uncas?

She breathed heavily as the dream faded around her and her ears registered the sound of heavy rain beating on the window pane. A peal of thunder rumbled overhead and she realized _that _was what had woken her, not a gunshot.

Lyric felt like she couldn't breathe and couldn't stand the scorching heat of the room a second longer. It felt like there was fire running through her veins, a fire that was scorching out everything that made Lyric herself. Were her fears coming true? Was she becoming Alice like she had in the dream?

'_I don't plan to lose another person to that damn house!_' her own words echoed in her mind. Could she have known she would lose herself?

Lyric stumbled from the bed to the door. She wrenched it open and all but tumbled into the hall. She was up again as the burn in her skin intensified and she let out a whimper as she raced down the staircase. She skidded down the last two steps and stumbled her way to the front door.

She pulled it open and ran out onto the porch, down the steps into the downpour, and stopped to let the rain drench her head and shoulders. She let it soak her through but it didn't dilute the internal feeling of fire. She hugged herself and fought to bury the blonde girl who threatened to take her over entirely. How much longer would she be able to hold on to herself before she was washed away like the rain water running down her face?

Inside the house, Caleb came out of the erotic dream as well. He sat bolt upright in the arm chair that he had fallen asleep in and looked around wildly for the source of the gunshot he had heard. Another rumble of thunder had him breathing a sigh of relief and scrubbing at his face with his hands. Not a gunshot, only a storm.

That dream, that erotic, confusing dream… what had it meant? He had watched Alice transform into Lyric as she moved above him and had felt himself changing back and forth as well. Was this what Lyric was afraid of? If so, he suddenly had a much better understanding as to why.

Another rumble of thunder sounded from outside, as did the sound of rain coming pattering onto the inside floor. He pushed up out of the chair with narrowed eyes and walked from sitting room to main hall, following the sound. He looked around the corner to see the front door open and moving ever so slightly in the breeze. Grabbing his colt from its holster he inched his way to the door and trained his gun, prepared to shoot anyone who might be out there.

As Caleb came up to the open door and peered out, he felt his throat dry up and his gun arm lower of its own accord. Out on the lawn stood Lyric, soaked to the bone and facing away from him. The rain had plastered her curls to her head and for a moment, he felt like he had tumbled right back into the dream. He took a step out the door and onto the porch, simply staring.

As if feeling his eyes on her, Lyric turned as well. She spun slowly, the arms that were wrapped around her, dropping at the sight of him. If it was possible, his mouth went even drier. The bloomers that had left little to the imagination while dry left _nothing_ to it wet. They were plastered to her form like a second skin, showing off the flat expanse of her stomach and the gentle swell of her tight breasts. She blinked at him through the rain water.

They moved toward one another as though in a trance. He stepped off the porch into the deluge and she stepped forward at the same time. Everything slowed down, so much so that he could have counted the individual raindrops as they fell around him. Time picked up again as they moved a little faster, and then returned to normal as they ran to one another.

They crashed into each other's arms in a tangle of wet limbs and searching lips. He caught her around the middle and took her mouth hotly with his own, she gasped against his mouth as his tongue tangled around hers. He lifted her from the ground, kissing her as though he would drown in her.

"_Chi hullo li!_" he whispered as he trailed his mouth along her jaw bone and down her neck. He took her face in his hands and kissed her over and over again.

"_Mwen renmen ou!"_ She responded, gasping as he pulled her in against him with one hand against pressed against her back and the other against her rump.

It was after she uttered these words that the tide changed, though not in the same way they had before. Lyric stilled in his arms as he was kissing her. Her lips, that had responded to his kiss so passionately, froze under his and she pushed back from him as though dazed. When she looked up into his eyes it was not with wariness. She stared beyond him, at something only she could see.

"_Vini ..."_ she mumbled, eyes lowering as she took a step back.

"What?" his voice was breathless with the desire that had been running like wildfire through his veins.

"_Li ap vini ..._" she mumbled, still backing away. "The Painted Man."

Caleb stepped forward and caught her face with his hands, he turned it up to look into her eyes and to try to get her to look into his.

"What do you see, _Lahollo?_" he asked urgently. "What about the Painted Man?"

She finally raised her eyes to look at him and when they settled on his face, he gasped.

"Lyric, your eyes!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes, her beautiful caramel eyes, were now the bright blue of the prairie sky. She blinked at him through the cascading rain water.

"He's coming." she said in a frightened whisper.

Then it was as though someone had let all the air out of her body, she sagged sideways and he barely caught her before she collided with the wet grass.

Authors note:

(I ended up really liking this section despite the fact that I wrote and rewrote it until I was blue in the face. (Plus who doesn't enjoy writing sexy time? XD) I waffled back and forth about having Lyric collapse _again_. I have a rule with most of my current writing that I'm not going to have main characters pass out more than once, maybe twice, in any given story. Otherwise they just start to look incredibly weak.

Technically, Lyric fell asleep vs fainted in the dinner sequence but I had intended for that to be the end of the 'main character faints' bits. Lyric took that option away from me here. I guess she decided she needed to be out of commission for a little while so I could focus on some other characters *cough Gray/Clarina cough*

So yeah…thanks for that Lyric, give Caleb a freaking heart attack while you're at it! XD. Anyway, I'll focus the next chapter (Maybe two, we'll see) on Clarina's POV so we can get her side of what's been going on)

Choctaw translation:

_Chi hullo li_-I love you

Haitian Creole Translation:

_Mwen renmen ou-_I love you

_Vini-_coming

_Li ap vini-_he is coming


	15. Chapter 15-Being the 'Strong Sister'

Clarina stared at the tray of food she had prepared for Gray's breakfast blankly and tried to find the courage to go up the stairs. '_It's just a hallway'_ she told herself firmly. '_He won't be there, he's not here anymore.'_

It was the same mantra she had told herself every day since they had come back to this godforsaken Plantation house and it wasn't working any better now than it had the first day she's said it. How long had it been now, almost a week since they had fled into the night and met the three soldiers? Almost a week since Caleb had pounded on her door in the middle of the night, waking her from dreamless sleep. She had opened it to find him soaking wet, with an equally wet and unconscious Lyric cradled in his arms.

"I need you to look after her while I get the doctor." he had exclaimed and then ran with the girl to the room down the hall. He was back out the door in a flash and Clarina followed to the upstairs landing as he bounded down them, taking the steps two at a time.

"He won't come!" she had shouted after him. "Not for a dark girl!"

"Then I won't tell him who he's treating!" Caleb shouted back as he disappeared into the rain soaked night.

"CALEB!" Clarina shouted before uttering a curse and turning on her heel to hurry to Lyric's room. Clarina lit a lantern and carried it to the bedside to see if there was anything _she_ could do for the girl while Caleb fetched Dr. Phelps.

Lyric lay writhing in the sheets, her voice mumbling broken Creole phrases. Clarina reached out to touch her face, expecting it to be hot with fever but it was cool to the touch, almost clammy. She pulled up one of lyrics eyelids to check the dilation of her pupils and nearly dropped the lantern in shock. Her half-sister's eyes had turned cornflower blue.

Caleb returned with the doctor an hour or so later and Lyric was much as he had left her, though Clarina had asked for Solomon's help in changing the girl into a dry night dress and they waited patiently as Caleb bounded up the stairs. He came into the room with a fat, soaked Dr. Phelps trailing in behind him. The rotund man stopped in the door to stare at the delirious girl.

"_She's_ who you brought me out in this weather to see?" the man asked incredulously. Caleb shot him an angry glare. "You led me to believe it was Miss Clarina that needed aid."

"No, what I said was that Miss Clarina needed your _assistance._" Caleb corrected as he shook off his wet coat; his voice was thick with dark undertones. Clarina took it from him and laid it over a chair as he went over to take one of Lyrics hands, murmuring to her in soft Choctaw.

"Regardless, you led me here under false pretenses." Dr. Phelps declared firmly and plastered his sodden hat back on his head; he turned on his heel to leave. "I'll not treat a Negro, Sir. Good day to you!"

Dr. Phelps would have left if Caleb hadn't hopped up from his place by the bedside and stomped across the room to grab the man by the back of his thick neck. He hauled the doctor into the room and nearly threw him against the bed.

"I have no patience for you prejudice notions right now, Doctor." Caleb spat at him with barely contained fury. "She needs a doctor and you're not leaving this room until you've treated her."

The doctor sputtered indignantly as both Caleb and Solomon went to stand in the door and block his escape, their arms folded over their chest. Clarina joined them and added her own glare to theirs. Now his only way out would be through the window.

"This is highly unorthodox!" the man raged indignantly.

"You haven't seen unorthodox, boyo." Solomon responded darkly. "Now are you gonna treat the girl or do we have to persuade you?"

Dr. Phelps studied their faces and saw that they were not going to budge. He muttered indignantly as Caleb picked up the bag he had dropped in his alarm at being manhandled and threw it to him. Dr. Phelps caught it awkwardly and glared at them before grudgingly beginning the process of listening to Lyrics heartbeat, taking her pulse, and checking her vitals. After a few moments of looking her over, he returned his stethoscope to the bag and snapped it shut with an audible click.

"Other than the obvious signs of exhaustion, she's in perfect health." the doctor told them in a clipped tone. "May I leave now?"

"Perfect health?" Caleb repeated incredulously. "She's delirious and her eyes have turned blue! You call that 'perfect health'?"

"I have no answers for you about the eyes, young man. "Dr. Phelps responded angrily. "She presents with no fever, no signs of infection to speak of, there is nothing physically ailing her."

"There must be something you can do?" Clarina pled, taking in her half-sister who moaned and writhed as though beset by demons.

"Whatever is happening to her is beyond my skills to explain or heal." the doctor told her with finality, his eyes flinty. "Now let me by."

What choice did they have? They could hardly keep him prisoner and he had done what Caleb demanded in so far as looking at her. Dr. Phelps had given his prognosis and couldn't or wouldn't do more. They stepped aside and let him go.

Caleb had stared after the doctor for a moment before setting his jaw and walking back to the bed. Without a word he hauled Lyric back into his arms and began to stride toward the door with her.

"Where are you going?" Clarina demanded, running after him.

"If he won't help her, I'll find someone who will." he said back. Clarina ran around and got in front of him, blocking the staircase.

"Caleb, there isn't a doctor for another ten miles and it's pouring out there." she tried to reason with him. "You heard what Dr. Phelps said; she has no fever right now. If you take her out in this, you are in real danger of making it worse."

Caleb's face shifted minutely and he looked down into Lyrics face where it lay against his shoulder. In his haste to find a solution, he obviously hadn't thought about that. Clarina walked forward and laid a hand on his arm, begging him with her eyes to listen.

"She's in no real danger that we can see." she told him softly, voice reasonable. "Let's just wait it out, if she becomes worse we'll send for another doctor, all right?"

What choice had he had really? He knew she was right. That had been almost a week ago and Lyric was much the same. Clarina would take a tray of food up for Caleb later and encourage him eat, though she doubted he would. Yesterday he had only put away a slice of bread and an apple.

Caleb spent most his time with her sister, talking to her, trying to draw her out of whatever nightmare she had found herself in. Clarina and Solomon had offered to sit with Lyric so he could rest but he had politely turned them down.

"Did she say anything to you?" Clarina had asked him after he had returned Lyric to the bed and stood staring down at her as though lost. "Anything at all before she collapsed?"

"Only that the 'Painted Man' was coming." he had answered.

Clarina felt a shiver run up her spine at the mention of 'The Painted Man'. Her hands shook just slightly where they gripped the tray. She hoped fervently that what Lyric had said was only a fragment of whatever was ailing her and not a premonition of things to come.

Those words had sent Clarina spiraling into nightmares of her own. Every night now she dreamt of General Thibodaux eyes as he forced himself inside her. She could still smell the stink of him, a stink that she felt like she would never get off her skin. Her arms and legs where raw with the scrubbing she subjected them too every day. Every morning she scrubbed at her skin, sometimes until it bled, and yet could not get him off her.

The other issue she was having was the flashbacks. They happened mostly in the upstairs hallway but even Solomon or Gray touching her in a certain way would send her reeling. Solomon had nearly sent her flying into a corner when he startled her in the kitchen two mornings ago. He had placed a hand on her shoulder to ask if the cow needed milking and she had ended up crouched in a corner, shaking.

Solomon had helped her to her feet with concerned eyes and patted her shoulder saying only "you can't let him do this to you girl, don't let him own that."

That seemed impossible when she had to brave the stairs every day and pass the room where _it_ had happened. Clarina always made sure the door was pulled sensibly shut so she wouldn't have to look into it but it didn't change the fact that it was there and that she had to walk past it.

Clarina felt the tremble in her body intensify as she passed the door, she heard the rattle of the tea cup on the tray as she turned the knob to Gray's room and pushed open. Taking a deep breath, she managed a smile for the convalescing soldier and hoped he wouldn't see the fear in her eyes.

She had been trying to draw on the strength of what Lyric had called the 'Strong Sister', the women she sometimes saw in Clarina's place. The 'Strong Sister' would not let the Generals actions affect her so; the 'Strong Sister' would be able to manage in the face of such trauma. Clarina must try to follow that example.

"Morning, sweetheart." Gray greeted, grinning his wolfish grin at her. He greeted her like that every morning, flirting with his eyes and his smile. Clarina was pleased to see his color was improving.

"Good morning, Mr. Gray." She greeted formally as she set the tray on the dressing table and went to throw open the curtains.

"You ever gonna drop the 'mister' from my name and just call me Gray?" He asked teasingly.

"Not until you earn it." she teased back, smiling at him over her shoulder as she pushed the window up. The rain had finally stopped and the morning was clear and cool. Clarina took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of wildflowers that wafted in on the breeze.

"Clarina, what happened to your arm?" Gray asked in sudden concern. She glanced down at her wrist with its raw red skin peeking out from under her sleeve. Suddenly feeling anxious, she tugged the sleeve down and gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing." she lied, nonchalant, as she turned to retrieve his tray from the dressing table. "I must have rubbed it against something. I can't be the docile lady anymore with so much work to do and Lyric laid up, now can I?"

She brought the tray to the bed and laid it on his lap. At the mention of Lyric his brow furrowed.

"How's Caleb doing with all that?" he asked her worriedly. Clarina sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed out her skirt.

"Much the same," she responded, blowing at a stray hair that hung over her forehead. "He barely leave her side, it's a wonder he ever eats."

Gray took up his fork and used it to cut the egg she had fried in half, frowning. He was worried about his friend and being unable to get up and talk some sense into him was bother Gray greatly.

"So, there's no improvement then?" he asked softly. Clarina shook her head.

"No." she answered and then shook herself and stood up from the bed. "Enough with maudlin things! Eat your breakfast and then Solomon will be up to help you exercise that leg."

Gray had been making steady improvement and now that his infection was cleared up, Solomon, and sometimes Caleb, when he could be persuaded to leave Lyrics side, would help him walk about the room on it. It would still be a while before it could bear too much weight but as soon as he was able, they would all head for New Orleans.

Clarina had a sister there that she could go live with if she chose but she had to admit that she wasn't sure the life of the aristocrat was something she _wanted_ to go back to. Her sister would stuff her back into some ridiculous dress and try to marry her off, especially once she learned of the rape. Clarina had already gone through all that with her mother; she was loath to do it again.

"Clarina," Gray said as he reached out to gently clasp her hand. She froze and slowly turned to look at him.

"Are _you_ all right?" he asked her gently. Clarina was taken aback by the question.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" she queried. Gray's eyes were full of concern as he studied her features.

"I hear you at night sometimes…you cry out in your sleep." he explained. "How are you holding up with being back here after…" he let the sentence fall off and for that she was grateful. She didn't like to use the word either.

"I am managing." Clarina answered, evasively. "You needn't concern yourself with me. I will get through it."

"Clar..." he tried again but she gently pulled her hand from his and headed for the door.

"I will be back for that tray in a little while." she said over her shoulder and shut the door behind her so he wouldn't see how unraveled the conversation had made her. She leaned back against it and shut her eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. God, how did he manage to see right through her like that? Was she so transparent with her feelings?

She gripped her hand into a fist and fought the urge to bang it against the door. '_Strong Sister._' she told herself firmly. '_Be the Strong Sister._' Clarina took a few deep breaths and calmed herself, deciding she needed to get out of the house for a while. She also decided that _someone_ was going to accompany her.

She walked the short distance down the hall opened the door to Lyrics room to find Caleb dozing in the chair across the room. She placed her hands on her hips and took another deep breath.

"Solomon!" she shouted over her shoulder. Her voice woke up Caleb, who very nearly fell out of the chair.

"Aye?" she heard his voice from the direction of the kitchen; she assumed he was finishing up trimming that wild beard of his.

"Would you come up here and sit with Lyric, please? Caleb and I are going out to the family plot."

"We are?" Caleb asked, face confused and haggard looking. Clarina fixed him with a hard stare.

"Yes, _we_ are." she responded in a tone that left no room for argument.

"Why?" he asked, standing up and cracking his back loudly. Clarina walked into the room and over to the window, pushing it up to let in the cool morning air.

"Because I need to get out of this house and so do you." she replied simply.

"I shouldn't leave her-" Clarina cut him off with a look.

"Your presence here isn't changing anything." she pointed out. 'And besides, if 'the Painted Man' does show up I would rather have someone with me than face him alone again."

She suppressed a shudder at the mention of Thibodaux and crossed her arms over her breasts to keep the tremble from returning. Once Solomon appeared in the doorway, Clarina smiled at him and walked to the door. He stepped aside to let her by.

"I'm going to collect Mr. Gray's breakfast tray," she explained to Solomon and the older man nodded. "When we return, would you help him with his exercises?"

"Aye, Lassie." he agreed. She smiled at him again, briefly, before turning her stare back on Caleb. "You meet me out front in fifteen minutes, no arguments." she commanded sternly. She strode down the hall before he could tell her no.

Fifteen minutes later, Clarina came down the front steps to find Caleb waiting for her if a little sullenly. He was none too happy to be there. Well that was just too bad! He had been cooped up in that room for a week, and there were things that they could use his help with around the property.

"Follow me." she said as she waltzed past him with an arm full of flowers from her mother private gardens.

"Is there any reason that Solomon couldn't have accompanied you on this trip?" He asked in an annoyed tone of voice. Clarina ignored this as best she could.

"Unlike yourself and I, Mr. Solomon is still injured. As I said upstairs, if the Painted Man truly does show up, I would rather have the man who can still fire a gun nearby."

Caleb said nothing to that and for a few brief moments they walked together in silence. After some time had passed, Clarina glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Did you eat yet today?" she asked quietly.

"No." he responded curtly. Clarina set her lips into a hard line and turned back to face him.

"And how do you expect to defend Lyric if he does come back, huh? If you can't even take care of yourself, what makes you think you can take care of my sister?" she demanded. He looked down into her face as though stunned, as though the thought hadn't occurred to him. Clarina glared at him a moment longer and then softened her features as she reached out to lay her free hand on his arm.

"Caleb, I know you love her." Clarina said as his eyes darted away from hers. She would have had to have been blind and stupid to not see how they had looked at each other from the moment they met. "But even you have to admit that hiding in that room and begging her to come back is not making it happen any faster."

He still said nothing and Clarina tilted her head to the side as she squinted at him in the sunlight.

"Gray asked about you today." she told him, trying a different approach. "He's worried."

"He has you." Caleb responded. Clarina shook her head and gave him a sad smile.

"I'm not his best friend." she answered. Caleb finally looked at her again.

"And I'm not a pretty girl." he countered. At that they both had to laugh and Clarina conceded the point to him. Gray did had a large tendency toward flirting but she assumed he would do that with any pretty girl that came along, she didn't think it made her special in the least.

"We could all use your help, Caleb." She told him when the laughter subsided. "You should accept ours too."

He studied her face after she said this and slowly, as though he had to think about for a moment, he nodded. Clarina smiled at him and patted his hand, reassuringly.

"Good, now come one."

She led him past the remnants of the Slave Quarters and into a field at the back of the property. Once they were in the taller grass, she veered left and took them towards the Spanish moss covered trees. Once they were in the shadier forest, she took them up to a rusted gate and pushed it open on its rusty hinges.

They walked into the Harris family plot quietly and Clarina came to a stop at the main mausoleum. She knelt to lay the flowers on the stone stairs. She didn't know where exactly the Union soldier had buried her parents. She only assumed they had laid them to rest in the family plot. She wasn't about to open the mausoleum and find out in any case. Caleb lingered by a larger tombstone, leaning against it and staring at her.

"Are _you_ all right, Clarina?" Caleb asked, somehow echoing Gray's words from earlier. She looked at him more sharply than was necessary.

"You're the one that dragged me out here to give me a lecture on hiding." he pointed out with his hands up in a 'don't shoot' gesture. Clarina pulled her lips into a tight line and then sagged her shoulders, looking at her hands in her lap.

"I…I am…managing." she finished lamely, giving him the same excuse she had given Gray.

"We don't have to stay here, you know?" he told her softly and she gave a bitter sounding laugh.

"How would we manage all the way to New Orleans with Gray's leg and Lyric…the way she is?" Clarina asked him incredulously. "Especially with so little money."

This last she muttered under her breath, The Union troops had picked the house bare of anything they could use to pay for a carriage into the city. Any journey they made would _have_ to be by foot.

"We'd figure something out." Caleb reassured her. "You don't have to suffer in silence because of the rest of us."

"Who says I'm suffering?" she countered, turning her face toward the mausoleum so he wouldn't see her expression.

"The raw spots on your arm are a pretty good indicator." he answered quietly.

Clarina pulled her sleeve down again and climbed to her feet. She turned to Caleb and cleared her throat audibly. When she finally turned her face up to his, it was as schooled as she could make it.

"Shall we head back?" she asked a little hoarsely.

Caleb studied her expression with a worried one of his own but nodded; he wasn't going to push her anymore on the subject of where she stood with the rape. She was grateful for that because she really didn't want to talk about it.

Clarina's lecture had an effect on Caleb; he did start to accept their help. Once they were back at the house, Clarina even got him to eat a little bit of breakfast, which was a feat in and of itself. Later that afternoon, he surprised her by asking her to sit with Lyric while he checked in with Gray. Good, he was finally coming out of the shell he had created for himself in lieu of Lyric's condition. Now if they could only get Lyric to come out of her waking nightmare, maybe he would come back to them completely.

That night was the first night that her nightmares took her out of her room. Clarina had never been known to sleepwalk but since returning to the house, a great deal had changed. She dreamt of the General knocking on her door that fateful night, shouting that the Union had arrived. Clarina knew she should not open the door but her body moved on its own and her hand grasped the knob, shakily. She pulled the door open despite her efforts to stop herself.

The door swung open and there was General Thibodaux, smiling at her in the most licentious way. In the dream, he reached for her and she ducked away from him. He advanced into the room after her and she sidestepped him, racing into the hall and slamming her door on his advancing form.

In the dream, she held the door while he pulled with all the strength of the devil from the other side. Her strength was not enough to keep him in there and, in the end, she fled down the hall into her mother's rooms. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, backing away slowly.

From outside came a great pounding as General Thibodaux threw his weight against the door, screaming that he would have her. She threw her hands over her ears to block out the noise, sobbing in terror and then arms were grabbing her from behind.

Clarina fought like a wild cat against her assailant, beating at him with tiny fists. She felt hands trying to restrain her wrists and fought that much harder. It was then a pair of hands gripped her face and spoke firmly.

"Dammit Clarina!" she heard Gray curse loudly. "Stop fighting me!"

She stilled, chest heaving. The hands remained on her face a moment more before releasing her to fiddle with something in the dark. She heard the striking of a match and the low sizzle of a wick being lit. Gray increased the brightness and turned back to take her shoulders in his hands.

"It's me." he told her firmly. She blinked at him, shaking her head.

"N-no…no…It was..he was.." she was babbling as it began to dawn on her that she had dreamed the whole thing. The door behind her was quiet, no pounding emanating from it at all. Gray was studying her wild confused face with worried eyes.

"There's no one out there, sweetheart." he promised her quietly. "You were dreaming."

Clarina continued to shake her head, she felt herself starting to tremble. There was a fine vibration that was slowly moving its way up from her feet. Gray stood before her, putting all his weight on his good leg and was obviously grimacing with the effort of it. He must have gotten to his feet when she burst in on him and was now struggling while trying to calm her down.

"He..he w-was there…" she stammered, shaking as the tremble was working its way up her arms. Gray was shaking his head at her and pulling her slowly backwards toward the bed.

"He was..he was.. I-I ran from him..he.."

Gray sat heavily on the edge of the bed and extended the injured leg. He pulled Clarina forward with his hands on her elbows as hot tears began to stream down her cheeks. She pressed her hand over her mouth and tried to stifle a sob that was coming up in her throat.

"Shhhhhhh," Gray said soothingly and pulled her down until she was sitting next to him on the coverlet. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in against him as she trembled.

"You're safe, sweetheart," he murmured against her hair. "You're safe."

He held her as she cried out her fear into his chest and rocked her until she fell asleep against him. For the first time in a week, she fell asleep feeling safe and content. To her surprise, Gray managed to comfort her without a single joke or offending remark. Perhaps there was a gentleman in there after all.

Author's note:

(I actually ended up being happier with this section then I thought I would be. I knew what I wanted to say but it wasn't coming across as well in the first write through. Clarina dealing with the rape is going to be touched on more in later chapters and have a bigger impact when they get to New Orleans. I also wanted a chance to show Gray in a better light since, up to this point, he's kinda been a jerk. Gray is not a bad person but he is a very _angry _person before the events of the story. I needed to show he can be considerate and caring when the situation calls for it. Probably still more Clarina tomorrow before I get back into what's going on with Lyric. As always, thank you for reading and commenting!)


	16. Chapter 16-Making Amends

Clarina awoke to bird song outside the window and opened her eyes to blink at the unfamiliar wall. At first she couldn't fathom why she was in her mother's room and sat up, alarmed. A gentle shifting of the mattress had her turning to look behind her and she was shocked to find herself in Gray's bed. He still lay sleeping, his face almost boyish in the morning light.

'_You're safe, Sweetheart_.' His soft voice echoed in her memory. '_You're safe._'

She remembered, her face flushing, how he had comforted her as she cried. She remembered how his arms had held her close and how he had stroked her hair and rocked her like a child. She had never been held in such intimacy by any man and scarce knew how to feel about it. Her mother would say it was highly improper but her mother had though _everything_ was improper. Still, she couldn't deny the fact that she had slept in his bed with him, all night. What did that make her?

"Morning Sweetheart." Gray greeted sleepily and she all but jumped off of the bed in alarm.

"Mr. Gray." she gasped nervously, bobbing her head. She pulled her night dress in against her chest, modestly. "Good morning Mr. Gray."

He lifted his eyebrows curiously, sitting up and running a hand back through his shaggy hair, yawning. When he took in her flushed and startled expression, he shook his head and then seemed to realize what the problem was.

"Oh, we didn't…" he started to explain, putting up a hand. "Nothing happened last night, Clarina, you just fell asleep."

"Yes, in your bed." she nearly hissed at him. He laughed at her scandalized expression.

"Yeah, that you did." he agreed, smirking as though proud of the fact.

"How can you be so calm about this?" she demanded, voice going up an octave in her nervousness.

"There's nothing to get so riled up over." he shrugged indifferently. "All we did was sleep. Are you feeling better by the way?"

"What?" she asked, harshly. She didn't understanding the sudden shift in topic. Gray swung himself around until his legs were hanging over the side of the bed and stared at her head on.

"You were pretty upset last night, Clarina, and more than a little hysterical." Gray told her pointedly. "Have you talked to anyone about what happened to you?

"I …I…that is none of your business Mr. Gray." she responded curtly. He set his jaw as he placed his hands on his legs, palm down.

"It is when you come bursting into my room in the middle of night, shaking like a leaf and crying."

His eyes softened as he took in the stiff set to her shoulders and the intensity of her eyes. His face, when it looked into hers was more tender than she had ever seen it.

"I've seen the aftermath of rape before, Clarina. It's not going to get better if you don't deal with it." he told her kindly. Clarina backed away from him slowly, toward the door, reaching out blindly with her hand for the knob.

"What do you know about it?" she asked raggedly.

"I know that you're scrubbing yourself bloody to try and get the smell of him off but it's never enough." He answered softly. "I know that you react to every loud noise as if it's the General coming back to claim you. You need to face this, Sweetheart, if you ever want to live without fear."

"I don't need any advice," she spat, indignantly "and certainly not from a union soldier of questionable upbringing!"

She turned on her heel and fled from the room before she had to see the sting her words had caused. She ran down the servant's stair and around the back of the house to the area they used for washing. Muttering to herself angrily, she pumped cold water into a basin and nearly wrenched the night dress over her head. She picked up the stiff sponge and dunked into the water angrily.

Clarina scrubbed her skin hard, ignoring the burning pain as she opened older wounds. She scrubbed until her arms bled, scrubbed her chest and her legs. When nothing helped, she sobbingly threw the sponge into the bucket before collapsing next to it in anguish. She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them as she sobbed, wishing for all the world that she could be anyone else right now.

Clarina made Solomon take Gray his breakfast that morning, she couldn't face him. Instead she threw herself into domestic activities and tried not to think about his observations about how she was holding up.

'_I know you're scrubbing yourself bloody._' She heard him say in the back of her mind.

"Shut up." She muttered, scrubbing a shirt against the metal tub harder than was necessary.

'_I know you react to every noise,_' his voice continued, irritating her with the truth of his words.

"Shut up." she said a little louder, slapping the garment angrily.

'_You have to deal with this, Clarina_.' His echoing voice told her firmly.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she cried and overturned the wash bucket in her rage. She stared at it, chest heaving. Around her, insects buzzed in the trees and birds called to one another from the field. She wiped at her sweating brow and grimaced as the sweat stung a raw spot on her arm.

She swung the arm back and forth, frowning and began to feel regret threading its way through her anger at Grays very astute observations. She shouldn't have spoken to him the way she did, not when his intentions had been to help her.

Clarina had not been raised to share her private affairs with strangers and great many of her mother's lessons were still ringing in her head. Her mother would not have approved of her speaking to someone like Gray, let alone sleeping in his bed, however innocent the circumstances. She would have considered Gray uncouth and beneath her daughter and discouraged any further interactions.

How did Clarina feel about him though, that was the real question? She had been caring for him from the moment they met and that alone had formed a sort of connection. When Gray was not being a prejudiced buffoon, he was making her laugh. He had a very witty sense of humor that was often overshadowed by his lack of education. He was definitely one of the most honest men she had ever met. There was no pretense to Gray, no mask to be put on for polite society. She truly didn't need to hide anything with him.

She let out a sigh as she realized she was going to have to find a way to make amends for her harsh words. She hadn't meant them, not really. She had only been startled and shocked at how much he knew about what she was going through. She suddenly felt the urge to bake him a cake as an apology. A cake, as though sweets could fix it! She knew she lacked the necessary ingredients, as well as the skill for a cake but perhaps, if she was so determined to make him something, she could try her hand at an apple pie instead.

That was what she ended up doing. She finished the chores outside and retreated to the kitchen to try and make the aforementioned pie from what she did have available. The recipe she found in a cook book was unfortunately in Haitian Creole and Clarina only spoke limited French. She had to guess at a lot of the ingredients and hoped that she didn't poison Gray while she was trying to apologize to him.

The pie came out looking normal enough and she cut a slice for his tray, hoping it tasted normal as well. Solomon came around the corner just as she was placing the slice on his tray.

"Need me to take it up to him, lass?" he asked her. Clarina heaved a sigh as she threw a napkin over one shoulder, gripping the handles on the tray tightly.

"No, no I need to take this one up myself I think." she responded glumly. Solomon regarded her with sympathetic, understanding eyes.

"You two have a row, then?" he asked. "He seemed unusually distracted today."

"Is there nothing you don't see?" Clarina retorted with a smile, which Solomon returned.

"When you reach my age, lass, you learn to pay attention." he told her with a chuckle.

"Oh, and what have you learned about us?" she teased pleasantly. "Being so wise and observant."

"I've learned that both me boys up there have found something they didn't expect in this jungle you southerners call a state." he answered with a chuckle and she smiled fondly at the term 'me boys'.

"You really care about them don't you?" she asked him quietly. Solomon walked past her to take a seat in one of the chairs.

"They remind me of me sons at that age." he explained, pulling off a boot and rubbing his sore foot. "Though I worry after Caleb especially."

"He's gotten better," Clarina pointed out. "He is leaving the room more often, and eating again."

"I worry that he won't survive it if she dies." Solomon clarified as he straightened again. Clarina set down the tray and walked over to take the other seat.

"You think he'd kill himself?" she asked incredulously, the thought had not occurred to her. Solomon swung his eyes to hers and they looked more than a little worried.

"Not in so many words." the older gentleman responded, pulling his bushy eyesbrows together in thought. "I think he'd grieve himself to death."

"They barely know each other." Clarina muttered, looking down at her fingers where she had been playing with them on the table.

"Don't matter, heart wants what it wants." And with that he returned the boot to his foot and plodded out the kitchen door to bring the animals into the barn for the night. Clarina stared at where he had been sitting for a while longer and mulled over his words.

"The heart wants what it wants…" she repeated quietly. What did her heart want?

Feeling confused about her own feelings, she picked the tray back up and took it up the stairs. She realized, as she stood outside Gray's, door that she hadn't even thought about the door to the study this time. Maybe talking to Solomon had given her enough to think about that she could get through one evening without the cold shakes.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, walking in with her head held high. Gray looked up as she came in and surprisingly looked relieved to see her. She had expected sullenness, even anger, but not relief.

"I believe I owe you an apology Mr. Gray." Clarina said, launching in with no attempt at chit chat or preamble. She laid the tray on the dressing table and stared down at it as she gathered together what she wanted to say to him.

"Clarina…" he started to interrupt her but she turned back to him and put a hand up.

"I was rude to you and for that I apologize. You were speaking so for my benefit and I did not react well." She told him contritely. Then she took a deep breath before turning to grab the tray again.

"So… to make up for my rudeness, I baked you a pie." She said somewhat sheepishly as she placed the tray on his lap. He looked down at the tray and blinked, obviously surprised.

"You made this?" he asked, pointing at the slice with his fork.

"Yes, though I've never baked before so I can't speak for how it will taste." she explained nervously. "You don't have to eat it."

"You made it for me; of course I have to eat it." he replied with a rather happy, if crooked grin, and cut into it with the fork. She watched him bring it to his mouth and then he paused. Gray chewed a couple times, swallowed, and then sat very still.

"Oh dear," Clarina sighed, studying his expression. "It's awful isn't it?"

"No, no its fine." he responded politely if not a little hoarsely and took a drink from the glass she had sat on the tray. After a moment he too up his fork again, she watched him avoid the pie and move onto the potatoes instead.

"You don't have to spare my feelings." she mumbled quietly and then looked down at her hands in her lap. Suddenly his hand covered them and she looked up again in surprise.

"Thank you for the attempt." he said with real gratitude. "No woman has ever tried to do anything for me that was remotely this kind."

She managed a small smile for him and then his morphed into a teasing one as he stabbed his fork into a chunk of carrot.

"Even if it does taste like dung." he finished with a chuckle.

Clarina let out a bark of laughter and ended up sitting with him while he ate. They talked about his childhood, what he remembered of his family and the orphanage he and Caleb had grown up in. His childhood might have been awful but at least he had freedom when he came of age. Clarina would never have had freedom of any sort had her family lived. Sad thought that.

"How do you know so much about…what I'm going through?" she asked, finally bringing the subject around to what they talked about earlier.

"I'm a soldier, remember?" He reminded her as he wiped his mouth with the napkin. "I've seen all types. Happened at the orphanage a couple of times too, the end result was always the same."

"Did it get easier for those girls?" she asked glumly.

"For most of them, yeah. A few are even married now." he replied.

"Mama was _always_ trying to marry me off." Clarina exclaimed, suddenly annoyed when the word 'marriage' came up. She leaned back and swung her feet absentmindedly off the side of the bed. "It was like being auctioned off to the highest bidder."

"Some women would give their eyes teeth for a good marriage." Gray told her simply. "Least the ones I knew, anyway."

"Well, no man would want me now." Clarina laughed. "I've got no fortune and I'm damaged. I suppose there are worse fates though."

"What do you mean?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Well you know, slavery for one," she said holding up a finger "being forced into prostitution," she held up another finger "going hung-" she might have continued listing fates worse than being a spinster if he hadn't laid a hand over hers.

"No, I mean why do say no man would want you?" he asked her curiously. Clarina blinked at him and gently pulled her hand away.

"You know why." she mumbled, smoothing her skirt down distractedly.

"No, I really don't. The fact that you can't bake worth a damn aside, I can't think of any man that wouldn't _want_ you." Gray told her firmly.

Clarina looked across the bed at him, feeling stunned. His face was as open and honest as she had ever seen it and there was no trace of joking in his eyes.

"Well, that's kind of you to say bu-"

"Clarina, Don't you know how beautiful you are?" he asked, cutting her off with a tone that was completely serious. She felt her face flush and looked down again. She suddenly felt very nervous. His fingers were under her chin and lifting her face back up, when she looked at him, his face was close to hers.

"There is nothing about you that is damaged." he told her tenderly, finger moving from her chin to stroke down her cheek.

She stared at him with her heart stuck in her throat. She had never been this close to a man in a romantic way. Her encounter with the General hadn't even been remotely close to romantic. She found, now that she was in that situation, that she didn't know what to do.

"_Ahem_," she cleared her throat and gently pulled away from him. She reached over to grab the side of the tray and lift it off his lap. "Thank you for the lovely compliment. It's getting late so I will um…see you in the morning."

He surprised her by darting his head in and kissing her very quickly on the lips. It was chaste, simple, and over very quickly. Clarina could gape at him, shocked into silence.

"Good night, Sweetheart." he said warmly.

"Good night, Gray." she whispered before hurrying from the room with a swish of her skirts. She carried the tray to the kitchen and set it on the island realizing that two things had just occurred. The first was that a man had kissed her for the first time in her life, and the second, was that she had finally dropped the 'mister' from Gray's name.

Authors note:

(Well this will end Clarina's section for a while; the next chapter will be back to Lyric. I'm also currently writing another LOTM fanfiction that I may be putting up in the coming days, whenever I ge the first chapter where I want it that is. That one will be a story that I will have to get to when I get to it, it's not my main focus right now. It will be Alice/Uncas centered (of course ^.^) and it will be called 'Rabbit', that's all I will give away at this time.

I should be getting these characters out of the plantation house soon and back on the road. Thank you all for reading and reviewing and more to come tomorrow!)


	17. Chapter 17-Alter the Flow

Lyric was falling backwards, away from Caleb's gold flecked eyes, away from his hands that tried to hold on to her and crashed into something hard. The force of it rocked her back against a solid stone surface and she gasped audibly, wincing as she struck the back of her head. She opened one eye to glance around and gasped again. She was in a cave, with a waterfall cascading down before her, wearing a sodden dress and feeling quite cold.

Lyric took in the waterfall with wide, frightened eyes, squinting at it in confusion. Where was she, how had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was an image swimming before her eyes of General Thibodaux climbing onto a horse and a deep, all-encompassing knowledge that he was coming for her and her sister. Now she was behind a waterfall, in a dress that was not her own, and feeling very frightened.

"We need to go back now, Alice?" a deep male voice said from nearby. She spun to take in the tall form of Uncas, the Stoic One, where he stood looking off down a tunnel. He was as soaked as she was, his long hair plastered around his head and shoulders. He turned to look at her and then walked over; the sound of his steps lost in the noise from the falling water. He held out a dark hand to help her up.

"Come?" he said, speaking loudly to be heard over all the noise.

All Lyric could do was stare at him. How was it possible that he was here? How was it possible that _she_ was here? Her expression of incomprehension and apparent inability to move must have translated for Uncas as trauma from the battle she knew Alice had just experienced. He frowned, pulling his mouth into a tight, worried line and reached down to take a gentle hold of her elbow. He silently pulled her to her feet.

Lyric stared at his hand where it lay against her elbow stupidly, starting when she took in that her flesh was no longer brown. It was pale, almost translucent; the moon flesh of Alice Munro. Scared, she reached over her shoulder and grabbed a handful of her hair. Lyric pulled the hair around, expecting black curls. She gaped silently at finding blonde, straight as a pin European hair. Uncas pulled her forward gently by the elbow and she stumbled after him mutely. She had no idea what was happening.

He led her down a stone incline to where the Father, the Strong Sister, and the White Man Dressed as a Red Man, stood talking quietly. She knew their individual names now, something she never retained in the _other_ world. If she was here as Lyric, in Alice's skin, did that mean that Alice was in Louisiana wearing her form? The thought made her head hurt and she hugged herself, shivering.

Nathanial, the White Man Dressed as a Red Man, was speaking in a foreign language to the father, Chingachgook. Uncas left her to join them and all she could do was watch silently as events unfolded around her.

Cora, the Strong Sister, was leading Nathanial off to speak with him in urgent undertones. They spoke urgently for a moment, the waterfall drowning out their voices. Nathanial took her by the shoulders, yelling at her and pleading with her about something Lyric couldn't make out. The blonde soldier who stood nearby was also yelling, interjecting his opinion into their muffled conversation. They ignored him; they had eyes only for one another.

Suddenly, Uncas was back in front of her and his eyes, his wild, dark eyes, captured hers with an intensity that could have burned.

"We have to leave you, Alice," he explained in calm, even tones. "We have no gunpowder, no chance of fighting them off."

Uncas took her now, surprisingly pale, hand in his and held it tightly. His other hand reached out to cup her cheek. He gave her a gentle shake to make sure she was paying attention.

"You're going to be taken." he explained firmly. "Submit, do you understand? Don't fight them. We will come back for you. _I_," he punctuated with a shake of his head "will come back to you."

"What if you cannot?" Lyric heard herself saying; it was as though she were reciting a script from a play she had seen over and over. She knew all the lines, all the responses; she knew how this was _supposed_ to end. She felt her body move forward to embrace him, took in the piney scent of his skin where she pressed her face against his neck.

"I will find a way." his deep voice promised as he held her to him. Then he pushed her back and gripped her face with his hands, staring into her eyes intently.

"You must alter the flow, Lyric." he commanded.

She blinked, pulling back from his hands. He had called her Lyric? He had just broken the script and spoken to her _as_ herself?

"You must alter the flow." he repeated, voice urgent.

The other players in this strange scene stopped what they were doing to look at her, faces expectant, as though waiting for her response. She looked around at each of their faces, confused and frightened, not understanding.

"Alter it?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I ..I-I don't understand."

It was then that the cavern shattered around her, like fragments of a mirror falling at her feet. The environment broke and she jumped back with a little cry as Uncas words repeated over and over, the voices of Cora, Nathanial, and Chingachgook joining in behind his. She could see their broken, fragmented faces staring up at her.

_Alter the flow!_

_Alter the flow!_

_Alter it!_

_Alter it!_

_ "_How?" she cried desperately.

She was falling, crashing once again, though this time into something softer. She gave a great cry of alarm, blinking until the room came into focus. She caught Caleb's familiar eyes floating into her line of sight. He was smoothing the hair back from her face and speaking to her in rapid Choctaw.

"_Bondye a sou segondè, sa k ap pase m 'konsa?"_ she squeaked out.

She had only enough time to take in his desperate, worried expression and grab at his hand before she was pulled backwards again. It was like being sucked down a long tunnel and she became aware of the falling sensation again. It felt slower this time, as though she were being carried down by a gentle breeze.

Her eyes popped open, her breath hitched in her throat, and she found herself sitting on the back of a horse. Her head, which had fallen forward onto her chest, came up with a little shaky breath as she righted in the saddle. Lyric glanced around wildly. All around her were soldiers in red uniforms, talking to one another quietly.

"Alice?" Cora's worried voce spoke from off to her left. Lyric turned in her direction to find the Strong Sister perched on her own horse, taking in her sister's face with wide, concerned eyes.

"May we rest soon?" Lyric heard herself ask, voice sounding tiny and timid. Lyric gripped the horse's reins in her gloved hands tightly, feeling ill.

"Of course!" a blonde soldier responded as Cora reached out for her hand.

Lyric knew this part of the story, she knew what was coming. Cora would lead her horse uphill, gunshots would ring out and she would be thrown from the horse. The entire field was about to become a blood bath.

It happened as she knew it would, she could almost count the seconds between. A gunshot echoed down the line of escorts, and then more gun fire answered it. Lyrics horse reared up, she was thrown to the ground and Cora was suddenly by her side, holding Lyrics face against her stomach.

"You must alter it." the Strong Sister whispered in her ear.

Lyric's head shot up, the battlefield paused. Cora stared back at her expectantly, the same as she had done behind the waterfall. Lyric shook her head.

"Alter what?" she demanded. "What does that mean, what flow?"

Again the scene broke and she found herself holding on to no one as falling slivers of images commanded her to 'Alter it, alter it, alter it!'

"Please?" she pled with the distorted faces. "I don't understand what you want from me!"

Again with the sensation of falling, again she opened her eyes to the room from before, only this time she saw Clarina sitting across the room with her chin in her hand. She was staring into space, lost in her own thoughts. Lyric swallowed on her dry throat and reached a hand toward her half-sister.

"Clarina?" she croaked. Clarina started and blinked, turning to face her.

"Lyric?" she spoke hesitantly, coming to the bedside and grasping Lyrics reaching hand. "Have you come back to us?"

"Don't let me go?" Lyric pled with her sister. "Please, Clarina, I don't know what they want with me… but don't let them take me again?!"

Clarina's eyes narrowed in sympathy and she reached out to feel Lyrics forehead as though checking for fever. Lyric pulled her face away from Clarina's hand and grabbed at the girl's arm desperately.

"Don't let me go?" she begged raggedly.

"All you have to do is alter the flow." Clarina told her sweetly, tilting her head to one side.

Lyrics felt her blood run cold and pulled her hand out of Clarina's violently as she all but tumbled over the side of the bed. Clarina didn't try to stop her, only watched as she crawled weakly toward the door and wrenched it open. She ran through and found herself, not in the upper hallway, but on the cliffs where Alice and Uncas' lived had ended. Up ahead she saw the Painted Man, Magua, with a knife to Uncas Throat. That was when she had to squint, finding it was not Uncas he held at all but Caleb.

"No." she whispered when she saw the knife being readied.

"No!" she managed to cry out and took a stumbling step toward them; she could see the knife biting into his flesh.

"NO! she shrieked as the knife was pulled cleanly across and Caleb's lips parted, gasping for air as blood poured down his neck and chest. She watched in horror as the Painted Man looked at handiwork in utter disgust before kicking Caleb off the side of the cliff. Lyric collapsed in despair, screaming Caleb's name in one long agonizing breath.

"You can alter it." Alice's soft voice commanded. Lyric opened the eyes that had been closed tight while she screamed to see Alice was backing away from Magua, backing to the edge of the cliff. "You _must_ alter it."

"_modi ou!_" Lyric sobbed, she felt gutted, as though everything important to her had gone over that cliff with him.

"We have endeavored to not force your hand," Alice continued, turning from Magua who was lowering his weapon, to look directly at Lyric "but we will if you force us to."

"Haven't you been forcing us this whole time?" Lyric sobbed angrily. "The dreams, the voices, pushing us together and making us…" She couldn't seem to get the words 'love each other' out.

Magua made a gesture at Alice, offering her safety if she stepped back from the ledge. She looked behind her at where Caleb had fallen and then back to Lyric.

"Both of you are necessary to alter it," Alice explained "both are necessary to mend the tear."

Lyric stopped sobbing, stopped raging, and blinked at her numbly.

"If the tear remains the flow will never move correctly. Mend the tear, alter the flow. End the story."

With that Alice turned from both Magua and Lyric; she simply stepped off the ledge, and fell into oblivion. Lyric watched Magua turn from where Alice had leapt to look directly at her. As with every other scenario she had seen, everything froze again. He walked toward Lyric purposefully and as he did so his featured began to run like water thrown on paint. They shifted and changed, altering into those of General Thibodaux.

She tried to scramble backward, away from him but he simply reached down and grabbed her by the neck. He hauled her up with strength he shouldn't have and held her above him with an expressionless face. Caleb's blood was still wet on the hand that held her throat.

"It will never end." The general said in the Painted Man's voice. Lyric began to struggle, trying to get away from him. His grip on her was like Iron. She could see behind him that the other characters in Alice's narrative were slinking up silently behind him.

Her eyes widened as they grabbed him, fighting with the arm that held Lyric. Nathanial tried to pry of his fingers loose, Cora tried to lower his arm, and Chingachgook struck him from behind with an axe like weapon. He dropped her and she coughed, trying to draw air.

"GO!" Nathanial commanded, gesturing with his head toward the cliff. Lyric stared at them with wide eyes as they tried to hold the General, who was struggling against the hands that pinned him.

"The cliff, you must go now!" Nathanial commanded, grimacing as he tried to maintain his hold. Lyric scrambled to her feet and ran to the ledge Alice had just jumped off of, she looked down into an endless sea of trees before looking back at the grunting, struggling group. The general had shaken off Cora, he was about to shake of Chingachgook, Nathanial shot his gaze straight across to her, where she hesitated at the edge.

"Seek out the Path Finder," he told her quickly "she'll give you answers. Now go, we can't hold him much longer."

Lyric turned back to the wide sea of trees and bit her lip. She heard a cry of pain behind her, a grunt and took a deep breath. She shut her eyes, and leapt. She expected to feel herself falling but she felt nothing, it was as though she hadn't moved at all. After a few more seconds of nothing, she opened her eyes and found herself…back in the room.

She sat up slowly and glanced around the dark room, warily, waiting for someone to command her to 'Alter it' again. When nothing happened she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the closed window. She stared out at the properties, now not so well kept, lawn and wondered if she were truly back in her own skin.

She looked at her hand and sighed in relief to see the skin returned to its normal café color. She pulled a lock of hair over one shoulder and found it curly and dark. Had they truly sent her back? A gentle snore had her whirling to face a chair on the other side of the room. Slumped in it was Caleb, his throat smooth and unbroken in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Lyric moved toward the chair slowly, hoping it was really him and not another image paraded before her by Alice. As she got closer she reached out a hand, whispering "Please be there, please be real, please don't be a dream."

Once she was in front of him she paused with her hand a few inches from his face, she was afraid to touch him; afraid he would vanish when she did, or worse, be dead like he was on the cliffs.

"Caleb?" she said shakily.

His eyes blinked open, he yawned and then his eyes caught her standing there. She took a deep breath and reached out to touch him.

Haitian Creole Translation:

_Bondye a sou segondè, sa k ap pase m 'konsa?-_God on high, what is happening to me?

_modi ou!_-Damn you!


	18. Chapter 18-Questions

_"Lahollo?"_ Caleb's voice was a thin whisper, as though he wasn't sure she was actually standing there. Lyric's fingers stopped inches from his chest, she was afraid to touch him. She was afraid if she made physical contact with him that the image would shatter and he wouldn't be there anymore, or worse, he would be another facet of whatever Alice and Uncas wanted of her.

"Èske ou reyèlman genyen?" she asked, feeling tears swimming in her eyes. "Am I still dreaming?"

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her in against him. He kissed her so desperately, so passionately, that for a moment she couldn't move. At first, she flinched, waiting for everything to fall apart. When it didn't she gave a gasp of surprise and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back just as ardently. He pulled back from her and took her hand, spreading her palm against his chest, right over his heart.

"Did that feel like a dream?" Caleb asked her breathlessly, his eyes familiar and warm as they stared back into hers. She could feel the soft thump beneath his skin. "Do dreams have heartbeats?"

Lyric gave a shaky breath and darted forward and back into his arms. Caleb pulled her in and kissed the top of her head, lifting her face back up to trail his lips over her cheeks, her nose, finding her mouth again and all the while murmuring in Chotaw.

"I was so lost," she said between kisses. "I didn't think they would let me leave." Another long, passionate kiss silenced her, she pulled back from his mouth with effort "I-I saw you die…"

Caleb cupped her face in his hands and turned it up so that he could truly look at her. She saw so much love, and so much relief, as he searched her face. She had fought loving him from the moment they met but she knew it was a battle she would lose. Whatever had brought them together, whatever the long term purpose, this man would have her heart until the day she died.

"Where did you go, _Lahollo?_" he asked her urgently. "You were delirious but had no fever, conscious yet unconscious at the same time. "

"I don't know exactly." she responded, shaking her head. "I saw different events, different parts of their story. They kept telling me to 'Alter the flow." He pulled back to look at her in confusion, narrowing his eyes.

"Alter the flow?" Caleb repeated, drawing his eyebrow together.

"I don't know what it means," she told him in frustration. "Over and over they said it, threatening to force our hands if necessary"

At the word 'threaten' his features hardened, appeared angry. He gripped her shoulders as he searched her face for any signs they had hurt her.

"They threatened you?" He asked darkly. Lyric drew her own brows together and frowned, thinking. "Not in the way you would normally consider it." she corrected.

"They said _you_ were necessary, that we had to 'mend the tear and end the story.'" She shrugged and looked back up at him. Now his face was the one that was surprised, maybe even a little pale.

"What, Chula?" she asked, laying a hand on his chest again. "Why do you look like that?"

"Because I think I just figured out _how_ they will force out hands." he answered quietly. When she gave him a questioning look, he pushed back from her and went to light a lantern on the dresser across the room. Once the light was bright enough he walked back over and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Lyric couldn't fathom what he was doing at first, until he got his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and held his arms out for her to see. She walked forward, wondering what he wanted her to see and then gasped aloud when she saw his arms.

On each arm was a tattoo, simple in design; A line around each wrist with a triangle descending from it to another line near the end of his elbow. Each arm was identical and she turned his arm back and forth to study the pattern.

"This is Uncas' tattoo," she said more to herself than him. "When did you get Uncas tattoo?"

"I didn't, that's just it. I noticed this after you collapsed. It's on my chest as well." He pulled aside the collar of his shirt so she could see another pattern dancing its way over his collar bone.

"Why would you suddenly have his tattoo?" Lyric asked, not understanding what any of this meant.

"You haven't looked in a mirror yet have you?" Caleb countered. Lyric shook her head. He set his jaw before gently turning her and guiding her by the shoulders to the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

Caleb halted once they were in front of it and she gazed into it distractedly, still mulling over the sudden appearance of Uncas' tattoos on Caleb's skin. Lyric looked at herself and blinked, then gave a cry of alarm as she darted forward to touch her own reflection. Her eyes, that all her life had been the color if liquid amber, were now the cornflower blue of Alice Munro's eyes.

"_Moun k'ap sèvi Bondye pi wo a!" _she gasped. She looked over her shoulder at Caleb and his eyes were worried as they gazed back at her.

"Are we turning into them?" she demanded, feeling both frightened and angry. Caleb made a gesture with his hands that indicated she knew as much as he did.

"They told you they would force our hand, I'd say this is the beginning of that." He answered.

"They also told me to find the 'Path finder.' She said, remembering Nathanial's words on the cliffs. "Do you think if we find her that this will stop?"

"I don't have any answers, _Lahollo_. Until now, this has never been threatening to me. Where would we find this 'Path Finder'?"

"I don't know, I've never heard the term before." Lyric frowned as she thought, her fingers still pressed against the glass. She turned to look at her reflection again. For a moment, the briefest of moments, she saw a vague image of General Thibodaux on a horse, his eye with the same intent focus of the Painted Man. He was on the moved, he was coming for her. She had seen the same intense focus in his eyes as he held her above him on the cliff.

_'It will never end.'_ he had said.

_Mend the tear._

_End the story._

Lyric though about these words over and over, trying to put some meaning to them. She thought about what she knew. She knew that Uncas and Alice had been in love, that they had died tragically. She knew that Magua had been the father of all that.

_Mend the tear._

What tear though? How could she mend something that had already happened?

_'Seek out the Path Finder, she will give you answers.'_

"I suppose we should do what Nathanial said." Lyric murmured to her reflection. Behind her, Caleb's reflection nodded his agreement.

"Our Unit is headed for New Orleans," he explained quickly. "There are all kinds there; maybe we'll get some clues about this 'Path Finder' there."

New Orleans, the birthplace of Voodoo, Yes, it sounded like the best place to start. Lyric swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared into her own, now blue, eyes. What would happen if they failed, if they couldn't mend this 'tear'? Would Uncas and Alice take them over completely? She thought about the others, Gray, Clarina and Solomon. They appeared to be echoes of the people in Alice and Uncas Story. It stood to reason that they would need them all for whatever was about to happen.

"Wake the others." She commanded, her voice a ragged whisper. "We should leave as soon as possible."

Authors note:

(Finally, I can get them out of the plantation house! God, it feels like they've been stuck there forever. My plot finally caught up, yay! XD my updates might get a little less the next couple of days, I've hit a point where I have to think about things a bit more before I write. Sappy self-indulgence makes for good filler. I'm hoping that if I hit a wall on this one, then I can work on 'Rabbit' and get it up too. We'll see what happens)

Haitian Translation:

Èske ou reyèlman genyen-Are you really there?

_Moun k'ap sèvi Bondye pi wo a-_Saints above!


	19. Chapter 19-Grays Doubts

Lyric's intent that they leave as soon as possible hit a snag almost immediately. Caleb did as she asked and woke the others, having them gather in the kitchen, but had to help Lyric down the stairs as her legs were stiff and weak from the week long convalescence. He nearly had to carry her down the servant's stairs and, in fact, did have to pick her up once they reached the kitchen. Clarina retrieved a chair and Caleb lowered Lyric into it gingerly.

The other problem with heading out on foot was going to be Gray's leg, which was still not strong enough for him to walk on it for long. Solomon had helped him down the stairs but that amount of exercise alone, had him grimacing from his place by the stove.

The third problem, as Clarina immediately pointed out, was money. They would have to find lodgings and food once they reached New Orleans. Between the five of them, they had very little of value. The house had been cleaned out of anything they might have pawned and the walk to New Orleans would take at least a week, if everyone was fit to travel.

First, Lyric told them about her dreams while unconscious, then she had Caleb show them his recently acquired tattoos, and finally she revealed what Nathanial had said about the 'Path Finder.' They listened quietly enough but when she was done she saw doubt on each of their faces.

"Lyric, you were delirious," Clarina argued gently "you were still recovering from that awful whipping. How do you know you didn't have a low grade infection that was making you hallucinate all this?"

"An infection wouldn't turn my eyes blue." Lyric argued back. "And how do you explain Caleb's tattoos? He hasn't been sick or injured this whole time."

Clarina pursed her lips but still looked skeptical, Lyric couldn't blame her as it was a large pill to swallow.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in and if you all want to stay here, I understand but Caleb and I _have_ to do this….otherwise we might lose ourselves completely." she told them solemnly.

"You really see us as someone else?" Gray asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, I do." she answered quietly. Even as she looked at him there was the faintest hint of Nathanial super imposed over Gray's long legged form. It was like a memory, an echo, and Lyric couldn't account for why the other personas were at varying degrees of visibility.

"I believe you are all pieces of the puzzle in some way but I can't make you come with us on this journey if your heart isn't in it." Lyric explained. Caleb laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she covered it with one of her own.

They were all quiet for a time, thinking about their own stake in this strange revelation. Gray appeared the most doubtful and Lyric suspected he thought she was crazy. Maybe she was, the whole thing certainly sounded crazy to her. At least he was being kind enough to keep his feelings to himself…for now.

"Are you at peace with this, lad?" Solomon asked Caleb, his bearded face unreadable. "You could be tampering with something dangerous here.

"All I know is that I have markings on my arms that I can't explain and feelings for a girl that I didn't meet until a week ago. If this 'Path finder' can give us something to go one then I'm at peace with _that._" Caleb answered and then looked down tenderly at Lyric. "I go where she goes now."

"Aye, I thought as much." Solomon smiled, amused. "Well if you're set on this then I'm coming with you. You can't rightfully carry her the whole way and you'll be needing a second pair of hands and eyes."

"It could be very dangerous." Lyric warned and Solomon laughed. "I've survived a battle already, girl. I don't think you're 'Path finder' will be worse than that."

That left Gray and Clarina undecided and the three that were set on going turned their eyes to them. Clarina sat back in her chair and folded her hands before her.

"You know I have no real desire to stay here." she began carefully. "This house holds few good memories for me as it is. You are my only remaining family, Lyric, and I would not be a very good sister if I didn't trust you on this." She took a deep breath and smiled while shrugging her shoulders.

"I suppose that means I'm coming with you." she finished simply.

That left Gray as the only undecided in the room and when the four other eyes swung his way he let out a bark of laughter.

"Well, for one thing, I don't have much of a choice here." Gray pointed out. "I'm lame; I can't work or even cook a meal for myself, so staying here on my own isn't an option."

He turned his doubtful eyes on Lyric and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he regarded her. When he spoke, his voice was as skeptical as his expression.

"I think this is a fool's hogwash, personally." he told her and she felt Caleb's hand stiffen on her shoulder. She patted it to keep him calm; she wanted Gray to say whatever he needed to. "I think you're leading my boy there into this delusion of yours and he's too taken by you to see it."

"Gray!" Clarina gasped, offended. Lyric held up a hand to her sister, indicating she should let him finish. Clarina sat back but shot Gray an angry glare from her place by the cooking island.

"So, I guess I'm going with, if for no other reason than to keep Caleb from running head long into whatever garbage you've been feeding him." he finished, turning his eyes up to his friend who Lyric knew was probably silently seething.

"You don't have to trust me Gray; I certainly don't expect you to." Lyric told him honestly. He sat back and gave her a hard stare.

"Good, 'cause I don't." he replied harshly. "I'm doing this for Caleb…and her." He added that last very softly and swung his eyes to Clarina. She looked startled and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Clarina pulled hers away.

"Alright then," Clarina said hoarsely and cleared her throat. "I propose that we procure a carriage. It would be faster and easier than roughing it the whole way."

"Propose away, sweetheart." Gray laughed. "You were the one that pointed out that we have no money, how do you propose we find some."

Clarina flushed at his words and thought for a moment, Lyric knew she must be considering everything of value that was now missing from the house. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she jumped up from her chair.

"Father's study!" she declared loudly. When they all stared at her, she laughed in relief. "My father's desk has a hidden compartment in one of the drawers. I had forgotten it was there until now. If we're lucky he's stashed something of value in there."

"You sure the troops didn't ransack that too, lass?" Solmon asked doubtfully. Clarina shook her head, looking excited.

"I doubt it; it's worth looking into at least."

With that she took off up the servants stairs and they stared after her, bemused. Once she was gone, Caleb turned his eyes back to his friend who was staring after where Clarina had disappeared with more raw emotion than Lyric had seen yet. What had transpired while she was unconscious?

"I'm gonna go see if she needs help." Solomon declared, trying to give the three of them some privacy. Lyric wished she could go with him, she didn't think this was a conversation she should be present for. Still, she would have needed his help getting back up the stairs and Solomon was already disappearing up them.

"You really think that of her?" Caleb asked quietly, though his voice held a fine thread of anger. Gray turned to look at his friend and his gaze was unwavering. "You really think she's doing this on purpose just to trap me in some way."

"Caleb, all I _know_ is that from the moment you saw her, you became a love struck mess." Gray told him tightly. "Now, I'm not saying she's ain't attractive or nothin', but she's a colored girl from the bayou. How do you know she ain't used some kinda voodoo on you, huh?"

Caleb looked dangerously angry for a moment and then shut his eyes and shook his head. When he finally opened them they looked tired.

"There's nothing I can say that will make you look at her as anything other than a dark girl, is there?" Caleb sighed. Gray looked rather confused at his meaning.

"She _is_ a dark girl." he pointed out.

"Gray, she _is_ Alice, regardless of what form she appears in now." Caleb argued back. "I know you never believed she was real but she's sitting right there." Caleb gestured at Lyric who, once again, wished she could escape from this confrontation. It was not important to her if Gray liked her or not and she didn't think this conversation was going to sway that toward the former.

"What I see is a girl that has gotten under your skin and pulled the wool over your eyes." Gray countered. "Over everyone's eyes but mine, apparently. Now I don't know how she tricked you into marking up your arms and I have no fuckin' idea how she changed her eyes like that but I'm fairly certain it's nothing more than a parlor trick."

Caleb simply stared at him, at a loss for words. Lyric looked away from both of them, uncomfortably.

"So I'm going on this fool's errand to pick up the pieces when you all realize she's a god damn liar." Gray finished quietly. Caleb stared at him for a long time and Gray stared back just as hard. Finally Caleb swept past both of them and disappeared outside, leaving them alone together.

"You should let him go." Gray said to her coldly. Lyric swung her eyes to his and pulled the night dress in against her, feeling cold.

"I tried." she whispered. "Is it so hard for you to believe I could love him?"

Gray studied her as she sat hunched in the chair and narrowed his eyes. Finally he set his jaw.

"We'll see." It was the last thing he said before he climbed to his feet and hobbled out of the kitchen.

Authors note:

(annnnnnnd….Grays back to being a jerk. Well, someone has to be the voice of doubt. If everyone followed along blindly with this then it wouldn't be very realistic, I guess. Sorry this chapter is shorter…I planned to have a conversation between Lyric and Clarina in this section, about some things that they haven't really discussed yet, but I'll save that for the next chapter.

Also, thanks to everyone who commented on this one and 'Rabbit'. I really didn't expect the attention that 'Rabbit' is receiving right now. I was hesitant to even post it because I didn't know how a story about Alice being deaf would be received. Apparently its being received rather well, so thank you!)


	20. Chapter 20-A Serious Problem

It took Solomon and Clarina a while to break into the hidden compartment in her father's desk. They ended up strewing what few papers remained all over the floor and nearly toppling the desk to find the hollow spot. Clarina tried everything to try and get it open, from prying at it with her fingers, to pushing on it, to looking for hidden triggers. Nothing seemed to budge it. She sat back on her heels and gave a loud cry of frustration.

"There better actually _be_ something in there or I'm halfway tempted to dig my father up just to scream at him." Clarina raged, running her hands back through her curls irritably.

"Well, before you go digging through yer family plot, mind if I try something?" Solomon asked. Clarina threw her hands up in a 'have at it gesture.'

"What do you have in mind?" she asked him. Solomon grinned impishly.

"Hit it real hard." he said simply, then brought both his fists down on the top of it with a bang. An audible clicking sound was heard and Clarina gaped at him. Solomon shrugged, looking pleased with himself. They leaned down to look into the drawer with the hollow area and saw that a panel had come loose at the bottom of it. Clarina slid two fingers in and slide the panel back, it went with little effort.

Inside the hidden compartment were two hefty stacks of bills, and an array of her mother's best jewelry. Her father must have hidden them in case of vandals and, for once, his paranoia had paid off. She pulled out one of the stacks to count it and found not only enough for a carriage to New Orleans but enough for lodgings and some food to boot.

"I do believe we solved our money problem Solomon." she told him with a smile.

Clarina and Solomon returned downstairs to find Lyric sitting by herself in the kitchen, looking quite downtrodden and no sign of either Gray or Caleb. Clarina went to her sister's side to see what had happened and Solomon took some bills from the hidden cache of money to see if he could rent them a carriage in town. He pulled a hat onto his head and went out the kitchen door as Clarina approached Lyric.

"I'm sorry about Gray," she told her sister who had a slow tear running down her cheek when she looked up at Clarina. The sight of that tear made Clarina inexplicably angry. She placed her hands on her hips and drew her face into a tight lipped grimace.

"What did he say after we left?" she demanded angrily. Lyric brought up a hand to scrub at her face and looked miserable.

"That at best he thinks I'm crazy and at worst, that I'm a liar." she revealed and gave a hollow laugh. "Maybe he's right about that first one, I don't know anymore."

"I will beat his arrogant, prejudiced _ass_!" Clarina stormed and turned on her heel to head for the door. She would have done it too, if Lyric's voice hadn't stopped her.

"Proof is the only thing that will change his mind, Clarina." her sister reminded her. "He'll just think I've used _voodoo_ on you otherwise."

"He'll be lucky if I don't use voodoo on _him_, the arrogant prick!" Clarina muttered this last as she turned back around to face Lyric who laughed.

"Do you even know any voodoo?" Lyric asked her. After a moment Clarina had to smile.

"No, but he doesn't know that." she answered and both women laughed. After it faded away, Clarina made her way back to Lyric and made a spinning motion with her finger, indicating Lyric should turn around.

"I need to see those whip marks, it's been a week after all. I tried to keep them clean while you were sleeping but I had…other things on my mind."

Lyric did as she was asked and pulled down the sleeves of the night dress until her back was in full view. She couldn't see Clarina's wince at how awful they still looked. They had started to scab and flake but many showed signs of minor infection and that didn't sit well with Clarina at all. She went to the wash tub and pumped some water into a basin, then brought it back to the kitchen island she laid it on the counter to sponge at some of the more seeping welts.

"Did my father order this?" Clarina asked quietly. Lyric stiffened when her sister hit a tender spot.

"Yes, after I dumped food in Thibodaux's lap." Lyric answered. "Why?"

"I think I've spent all this time hoping he didn't, that it was my mother or Melinda that's to blame. I wanted to believe he wouldn't do this to one of his children. Thanks for the Thibodaux incident, by the way. I had wanted to that the entire meal"

"Well, the head of Housekeeping got some blows in toward the end. She didn't think I'd been 'punished' enough yet." Lyric answered bitterly. "I don't think my show of temper did me any favors."

Clarina dipped the sponge back in the water with an angry slap then rung it out hastily before dabbing at another welt lower down.

"She was an awful woman. She once told on me as a child for trying to play with you." Clarina revealed just as bitterly. "Mama beat me with a hairbrush until father caught her and made her stop."

Lyric whirled in her seat to look over her shoulder. Her face was baffled.

"I don't remember that at all." The darker girl exclaimed. "How old was I?"

"Oh, not much more than two, I imagine. Turn back around, please?" Lyric did as Clarina asked but she could tell by the set of the girl's shoulders that she expected Clarina to continue the story.

"You were sitting on the sewing room floor with your mother, playing with a husk doll. I knew you were my sister because mother ranted about it all the time." Clarina smiled to herself at the memory of little Lyric, sitting on the floor at her mother's feet, happily babbling at the makeshift doll. She remembered wondering how a baby could be such a threat.

"I had no playmates, my sisters were half grown by that time. I was five and you were the only other child in the house. I didn't understand why I couldn't play with my own sister." Clarina explained softly. She stopped in her motions of cleaning the seeping wounds.

"Melinda must have seen me go in and sit with you. The next thing I remember is mama bursting in and dragging me out to my room. I had a wooden hairbrush on my dressing table and she nearly knocked me out with it." Clarina shook her head. "I think that was when I started to actively disobey her."

Lyric looked over her shoulder again and gave a little half smile.

"The other slaves used to talk about you going out to ride, sitting like a man on your horse. Is it true you went shooting with a cousin once?" Lyric asked, bemused. At that, Clarina busted out laughing.

"Yes, that story is quite true. I think I aged my mother several years with that one act of defiance." Clarina had Lyric turn back around and hike up the bottom of her dress so she could see how the leg welts were healing.

"Mmph," Clarina made a chastising sound in her throat. "These aren't healing well, Lyric."

She had been concerned when Lyric first jumped out of the boat to run to Caleb, but then it had been more about Gators. Now she saw that she had another reason to be concerned and that had been the swamp water getting into her wounds. The water of the bayou was filthy and Lyrics legs showed just how filthy that water had been. Her legs looked like an infected mess and Clarina was amazed she hadn't fallen seriously ill.

She made Lyric wait for her as she went to her mother's private bath for ointments. Yet another room that had seen better days, but thankfully the soldiers hadn't pilfered the ointment. She carried it back to the kitchen, reading the label as she opened the door.

"This will probably hurt but it's the best I can do with what we have…" she halted in her words as she looked up and Solomon was standing by Lyrics chair. How had he returned from town so quickly? He was holding out a piece of paper to Lyric who looked as white as a girl her color could get.

"We have a serious problem." Solomon said darkly.

"Why, what's happened?" Clarina demanded, not liking their grave expressions at all. Lyric held out the piece of paper with a trembling hand and Clarina walked forward to take it from her.

Notice

**Be on the lookout for Mullato female, slave of Capt. John Harris. Slave may be accompanied by Capt. Harris daughter, Clarina Serepta Harris, whom she abducted after murdering Capt. Harris and his wife. Both were last seen fleeing into the swamps of Layfayette Parish on Sunday, April 10, 1863. Mullato is to be taken dead or alive and turned over to the custody of the Confederate Army.**

At the bottom of the paper was an artist's rendering of what Lyric might look like and it was a very close likeness. Clarina stared at the paper before turning frightened eyes to her sister.

"Thibodaux has signed my death warrant." Lyric whispered harshly.

Authors note:

(Oh, Thibodaux, always busting someone's balls! XD

in case anyone's wondering I totally made up the parish that the town and house is in and chose a random date. If there really is a Lafayette Parish in Louisiana then I I got lucky cause I pulled the location out of my butt.

Finally got a nice sister scene with Clarina and Lyric, that was due. I also think Gray and Clarina are going to have a nice angry argument while they're on the road. She's getting about as tired of his shit as I am. Tomorrow, hopefully, will be the scene where they actually leave. Again, thanks for reading and reviewing (On both stories), you guys are awesome!)


	21. Chapter 21-All the Doors are Closing

Caleb walked back into the house after he had calmed his anger by taking a long walk around the grounds. He had always suspected that if he ever found Alice, or rather a version of Alice, that Gray would not take it well. After all, it had been just the two of them since they were children and Caleb knew Gray probably assumed that would never change. The fact that Lyric was half Haitian wasn't helping either. Caleb realized with a heavy heart that Gray's attitude might force him to choose between them and the reality of _that _scenario was that he would choose Lyric. It was not a confrontation he looked forward to having.

He pushed in the door to the kitchen and hoped fervently that Gray didn't force his hand on this. Caleb was surprised to find everyone, including Gray, gathered in the kitchen. They all wore grim expression as they stared at something in Clarina's hand and Lyric was trembling.

"What's happened?" Caleb exclaimed, startling the room. He walked briskly over to Lyric, who looked up at him with terrified eyes and knelt next to her chair. He cupped a hand against her face and she covered it with one of her own, swallowing audibly before she could speak.

"It's Thibodaux." she said hoarsely and reached out a hand for the paper Clarina was holding. Once the smaller girl handed it over, Lyric in turn, handed it to him. "He's put a target on my head."

Caleb took the paper and he read it quickly, going cold when he saw what was written on it. This was bad, very bad. If the townspeople found out Lyric was here, they might very well take matters into their own hands.

"They'll lynch me." Lyric said and covered her mouth with one hand as if she were going to be sick. Caleb crumpled the paper and threw it angrily across the kitchen.

"No, they won't!" he promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"You wouldn't be able to stop them, Chula!" she cried at him.

"I might be able to!" Clarina declared. The room turned to look at her. "If I go into town, if I tell them the truth then they'll have no reason to go after Lyric."

"I don't think that will work, sweetheart." Gray spoke quietly but kindly. "This is the south; they've lynched their slaves for less."

The room was quiet as everyone let his words sink in. Lyric bit her lip, afraid and trying to come up with a solution that wouldn't get her killed and the rest of them jailed. Caleb went to lay a hand on her shoulder and she clung to that hand like an anchor in a storm.

He didn't know what to do. This put them all in danger for different reasons. He, Solomon and Gray could be jailed as accomplices, Clarina could be sent back to that monster and Lyric would surely die. He felt as if there were no ready answers. They could try to flee to the north but that would make himself, Gray, and Solomon deserters and could lead to a court martial or worse, an execution.

"Well, the fact remains that we can't stay here." Solomon interrupted all their thoughts. "That fat doctor will probably wire the Confederacy the minute he sees one of those. We can't take a carriage either, too dangerous."

"What do you suggest?" Clarina asked.

"Out in the barn is a horse I purchased once I saw that warrant. We can put Lyric and Gray on it if need be. I also got us some food. We should leave here now, before we lose any more time."

"I ain't riding with _her_ on a horse or anything else!" Gray stated petulantly. Caleb turned to him, opening his mouth to let his friend have it, but it was Solomon that stepped in instead.

"You'll do it, _Boyo_, and you'll do it quietly." The older man told him with firm, Irish finality. Gray looked at him, shocked.

"I've sat here and listened to you insult and harangue the girl because I know you're only doing it outta fear of losing yer friend but it stops. Now!" Solomon's accent seemed to get thicker the angrier he became. Caleb had very rarely seen Gray speechless but he looked unable to form a sentence, so cowed was he by the older man.

"Now we're all getting outta here and if I hear one more disparaging or prejudiced remark from you, I'll show you what Irish nerves can _really_ do. Understood?"

Gray nodded. Caleb was in complete shock. Gray had never gotten in line for anyone, not even the generals that trained them to fight in the Union. Lyric stared at the man with swimming eyes, shocked and touched. Caleb didn't think she was used to anyone, let alone a white man, standing up for her.

The issue had to be put aside long enough for everyone to gather what they needed and Clarina to lace Lyric into a loose fitting dress. They all convened in the barn and Gray was immediately put on the back of the horse, as there was no chance of his being able to walk on that leg. Lyric decided she would walk as long as she could, probably not wanting to sit in awkward silence on that horse with Gray anytime soon.

They headed immediately for the woods, keeping close to water as they headed toward the sun that was just starting to rise over the trees, bringing with it all the heat of Louisiana. Lyric held Caleb's hand as they walked. Clarina led the horse as Gray tried to talk to her. Caleb could see the other girl saying something to him but he couldn't hear it. Grays stricken face indicated it wasn't good. Solomon led the group a little farther ahead.

"I should make some _Hotfoot_ powder." Lyric said to herself. Caleb turned to look at her. She still looked shaken but she was no longer a dangerous shade of white.

"_Hotfoot_ powder?" he queried.

"It's uh..." again she swallowed as though her throat were dry. He gave her his canteen and she drank some before thanking him and returning it. "It's a powder for protection. It might help keep Thibodaux away."

"I thought you didn't buy into your mother's _voodoo_ beliefs." Caleb reminded her. Lyric gave him a wan smile and squeezed his fingers.

"At this point I'll buy into _anything_ that might keep us safe." she answered.

Caleb reached out take on of her curls between his fingers and twirled it affectionately. She was a complicated woman, his Lyric, but he was glad to have her back.

The group walked for as long as they could, until the suns placement put them at about lunch time. They stopped to have a brief lunch and give the horse some food and clean water. There was not a lot of conversation at Lunch and when it was time to start walking again; Caleb was forced to put Lyric on the horse with Gray.

Gray, to give him his due, said not a word when she was placed behind him in the saddle. The two men shared a look that said all it needed to say as Caleb patted Lyrics leg reassuringly and moved on ahead to talk to Solomon. He also took Clarina with him because he sensed that Lyric and Gray needed to have a confrontation. He gave them as much privacy as he could.

Lyric sat behind Gray in awkward silence and tried to hold his waist as loosely as possible. She didn't want to be here anymore than he wanted her to be. She was still surprised at Solomon's speech in the kitchen. The older man had always been more comfortable listening to what was going on around him rather than getting involved. She had to admit she was touched by his standing up for her. Gray cleared his throat and she stiffened, expecting him to tell her to move back away from him or to not grip him so tight. He didn't say any of this.

"Alright, I guess you and me need to have a…conversation," gray began awkwardly, without looking back at her "and I'm not good at this so bear with me, please?"

He turned to look over his shoulder at her and she nodded, waiting.

"Look, it's no secret that I don't much care for you," he began though his words were spoken kindly considering their harsh phrasing "but that fact remains that _he_ does." Gray gestured to Caleb, who was occasionally glancing at them over his shoulder at them. Lyric nodded again.

"I have a lot of rage." Gray continued. "I've been angry most of my life and usually I take that out on whoever is nearby, in this case you."

He paused and pursed his lips, as though he had to visualize the words before he said them.

"I don't know what's happening with you two but I would have to be blind and stupid to not see that it's powerful. Solomon was right when he said I'm afraid of losing the only person whose ever put up with me long term."

Lyric was still quiet as he sighed and gave her a very small smile.

"Look, I can't promise that I will start trusting you about this whole bizarre mess but I promise that I will try." he told her truthfully. Lyric gave him a confused smile and shook her head.

"I'm confused, are you apologizing here?"

Gray laughed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. After a moment Lyric added her laugh to his.

"I did mention I'm not good at this." he repeated and turned his eyes toward Caleb and then, more specifically, toward Clarina. "I want to be better," he said quietly "for her if no one else."

Lyric looked from the back of her sister's head to Gray who was looking at her as though she held the key to his happiness. What the hell had happened while she was sleeping?

"Are you in love with her?!" Lyric exclaimed more loudly than was necessary. Solomon, Clarina, and Caleb looked back at them with odd expressions.

"Would you keep your voice down?!" the blonde man hissed at her. To the others he said "We're fine, just talking some stuff out." They all looked at each other but went back to their conversations. Gray looked over his shoulder at Lyric as though embarrassed.

"I know she's out of my league, alright. You don't have to announce it."

"I'm sorry, I was surprised…when did…when did she..?" Lyric stammered, attempting to speak more quietly.

"We ain't done nothin', calm down." Gray answered, turning red.

"No, I mean…" Lyric took a deep breath and calmed herself. "I'm sorry, I'm not judging…I just don't know when all this happened."

"That's because _nothing_ has happened." Gray responded. "I don't know that she's ready for anything to happen."

"Oh." Lyric responded lamely. She thought for a moment, picking her next words carefully. "Does she know how you feel?"

"I'm pretty sure she suspects but after the rape…well, I ain't pushing her." he answered tightly. "She's not doing well with any of that."

"What do you mean?" Lyric asked. He explained to her about the nightmares, the intense scrubbing that was making her skin raw. Lyric didn't ask how he knew about the skin; she found she didn't want to know. Gray and Clarina, that seemed like a very strange match. Still, if anyone could keep Gray in line, it would be her sister.

She was still thinking this when pain exploded in her temples. She gave a cry and grabbed her head as a picture of General Thibodaux flashed before her eyes. She saw him riding into the town, Dr. Phelps telling him about how he had been forced to treat her. With a hot blast of pain the image changed, she saw him and his group of remaining men, arriving at the house. She saw them searching the grounds. And finding the horses tracks in the dirt. She saw the Painted Man's smile cross the Generals face.

The image faded and Lyric slid sideways, falling off the horse to land heavily on the ground next to it. She heard cries of alarm. Footsteps running as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her hair had fallen into her face and she was rubbing her temples painfully, grimacing. Caleb's hands were on her upper arms and she brushed the hair back from her face to look at him.

"I'm fine!" she declared reassuringly, rubbing the flesh between her eyes. "I'm fine. But I think we might want to lose the horse in the next town. Thibodaux just discovered its tracks, he's going to follow us."

She opened her eyes to look at them and found they were all staring at her in shock. At first she thought it was because of what she just said but Clarina pointed at her with wide eyes.

"Lyric, your hair!" she hissed.

Feeling confused, Lyric reached around with one hand to pull some curls over her shoulder. She pulled the locks in front of her face and balked. Her curls that were normally a deep, shiny black were now lightening to a deep rust color. She looked back at the group with wide eyes.

"Ok, you win. No one can make their hair change color like that!" Gray stated firmly. "And I think we better find this 'Path Finder'… quick!"

Authors note:

(Ok, I got back to this story finally. And I cleared up some things that needed clearing up. I wasn't going to make her hair start changing color this quickly but it worked out plot wise to set that ball rolling. Now maybe Gray can stop being an ass to Lyric XD

Also, I have two more songs to add to the playlist for this story if anyone is interested.

Next to me by Emili Sande for Clarina and Gray

The Chain by Ingrid Michelson for Lyric

Ok, hopefully I can get some more written for Rabbit soon. I don't think there will be an update tomorrow since I won't be home to write, maybe Sunday though. Happy reading everyone!)


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